


Into the Wild

by CaptainTarthister



Series: The Lannisters Are Coming [19]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Awkward Boners, Brienne is the Best, Camping, Cuddling, Cunnilingus, F/M, Grandfathers babysitting, Jaime is Horny, Jaime is a diva, Lots of kissing, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Reluctant Roommates, Sorta Couples Retreat, Wild Sex, brienne is horny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-04-23 14:22:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 40
Words: 89,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4880206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainTarthister/pseuds/CaptainTarthister
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaime and Brienne sign up for `extreme’ couples counselling which involve getting dumped in the wilderness for one week to strengthen their relationship and get to know each other better. Includes nightly reports of what they learn from each other to their coach, a therapist who just goes by the name Melisandre.</p><p>Meanwhile, back in Westeros, Tywin Lannister and Selwyn Tarth bump heads on how to take care of their grandsons. Tyrion and Margaery intervene, Cersei is annoyed, Robert goes through `sympathy pains’ and in consulting ex-nanny Sansa Stark over Wype, she lets out a secret.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Family Time

Jaime Lannister had to shoo his wife Brienne out of their apartment the night before their departure for the Riverlands. He pointed out that since she spent her days either in classrooms or at her office in King’s Landing University-Westeros, she had little opportunity to go out, unless with him. He was often on location for a photo shoot, though since their twins Jeremy Tyrion and Andrew Galladon were born he preferred assignments closer to home.

“It’s going to be five days with just me, wife,” he told her as he sat at the foot of their bed, Ty unlacing his father’s shoelace while Drew gnawed at the leg of his jeans. Brienne stood in their closet, the door left open so Jaime could watch her get dressed.

“Five days with just me,” he reminded her. “Just the two of us. It will be a miracle if we don’t teach each other to pieces.”

He was joking but Brienne gave him a look before she slipped on a simple, tailored white blouse. She was already wearing jeans.

Since his birthday celebration at Casterly Rock six months ago, the Lannisters had signed themselves up for therapy. As much as they wanted to keep this to themselves, they realized that there was nothing shameful nor bad with what they were doing. It wasn’t like their marriage was on the rocks, they told each other, but they needed work. Still, they got questioning looks from family and friends who knew.

What they needed to work on exactly was something Jaime and Brienne couldn’t really put in to words, and what the four therapists they had gone to had tried to guess. Their sex life was passionate and fulfilling, and occurred often enough yet somehow they had managed to avoid making it stale. They were communicating much, much better. But Jaime, for one, felt there was more he should be doing. What exactly, he couldn’t name. Brienne too felt that she wasn’t putting as much effort in their marriage as she should though when she asked Jaime what he needed from her, he drew a blank in confusion. 

This was where Stannis Baratheon came in. Stannis was a photographer Jaime used often enough for work. He was the brother of Jaime’s goodbrother, Robert, Cersei’s husband, and was also the brother of one of Brienne’s best friends, Renly. Stannis recommended to the Lannisters Melisandre, a “genius” who helped cement his relationship with his new wife, Selyse. Privately, Brienne thought that Selyse was a little too weird even for Stannis, who tend to say things that made everyone awkward and look for the nearest exit. Selyse was too quiet, who reminded Brienne of a child rather than a woman in her thirties. She was also a lot more uncomfortable in social situations than Brienne, having refused all invitations by her and Lollys, the wife of Bronn Stokeworth, one of Jaime’s partners at LSM Creatives, even just for coffee. Addam Marbrand’s wife had given up on Selyse early on. 

Stannis told them that this Melisandre specialized in `extreme’ couples counselling, giving relationships `that needed jerk to power it up again.’ Jaime and Brienne were dubious at first but they talked it over. Talking to the four therapists they’ve had did nothing but siphon money off them. Maybe this was what they needed. That needed jerk. A reboot of some kind.

“I would much rather stay here with you and the boys,” Brienne grumbled as she buttoned up the blouse. Despite her frown, she was blushing. She may be standing quite a few feet from her husband, but there was no missing the emerald fire of his eyes as he watched her. They leaped from her bare breasts to her face as she closed the blouse before gazing at her face. 

“You stay with us every night. Wife, how many husbands do you know order their wives to go out and have fun?”

Despite his smirk, his voice was warm and tender. Brienne, finished dressing, went to him. She smiled at Drew as she knelt on the floor, positioning herself between Jaime’s legs. He straightened up so he could look down at her. 

“How many wives do you know would much rather stay in with her family?” She asked him as he brushed her hair away from her face. She had cut it again so it was back to the cropped style that showed the shell of her ears and the graceful curve of her long neck.

“Only you,” he said.

“Only you,” she told him.

She turned to kiss his palm and sat back on her heels, pulling Ty away from Jaime’s shoelaces. She set him on her lap as Jaime pulled Drew up from the floor and put him in bed beside him. 

They played with the boys, laughing and exchanging smiles over their small, golden blond heads every now and then. Jaime thought he should tell Brienne to be careful—she was already dressed and was wearing white. But he couldn’t bear to break that sweet moment between mother and son as she put her hands under Ty’s armpits and started pulling up and down. Laughing, he commanded, “Mommy, more! More!”

Drew, on the other hand, was content to play with the buttons of Jaime’s shirt, trying to pluck them free with his little fingers. “Daddy, good,” he said, pressing his face to Jaime’s chest. He chuckled, knowing that it meant he smelled good. 

Who knew that his life had been headed towards moments like this? Jaime wondered, throwing his head back and laughing when Ty tugged at Brienne’s hair and she yelped. This was far, very far from the life he envisioned for himself many years ago. 

When he was fifteen, as it went with all fifteen-year-old boys, he dreamed of banging a different model every night. He already had money, he was a Lannister, after all, with golden, good looks, bright emerald green eyes a cocky, crooked grin no girl had been able to resist. Then he got older and his dreams started to come closer to earth. He wanted his own shop, where he could conceptualize all he wanted, make his mark on successful advertising campaigns. He got that, though the road towards it had not been the easiest. It was fortunate that friends such as Bronn Stokeworth and Addam Marbrand stood by him through the Aerys Targaryen fiasco, and most fortunate that he had been able to prove to them that putting their reputations on the line for him had been very much worth it. LSM Creatives, their advertising agency, was now second to Aerys’ and had been garnering all major awards since their Valyrian Beer campaign.

But Jaime never wanted a wife or children. He did not have the inclination and the few women he was with were so uninteresting that he had to force himself to get through the rest of the night with them. He thought sex was prize at the end of such a night but it was far from satisfactory. It gave him relief but there was nothing very pleasurable in it—not for him. He also made it a point to sleep alone, never inviting any woman to his apartment. 

Then Brienne Tarth came along.

She was not the supermodel he envisioned as a teenager. She was tall, six-foot-three, an inch taller than him. This was all she had in common with them. Jaime would always be grateful for that. Her hair was an uncontrollable, straw-blonde thing that resisted the strongest products, her nose broken at least twice when she used to be volleyball player, her lips were thick and her mouth big, certainly not the sexy pout of a model. Her skin was very pale and she was heavily freckled from forehead to toe. Yet he had been intrigued from her from the very beginning, when she got up on a table and started leading the bar in an impromptu concert. Even when she was hunched over her laptop writing another scholarly article he found it difficult to look away from her. 

It was those eyes of hers, for starters. Round, big and the exact color of sapphires. They flashed when laughing or smiling at him, narrowed when she called him an idiot, softened when she was with their sons, sparkled when he teased her, and got slumberous and heavy-lidded when he made love to her. He told her once that those eyes had ended him, ended the Jaime Lannister who just ambled along life with no real direction. Discovering that such eyes existed gave him purpose: to be with Brienne Tarth, now Brienne Lannister. _Professor Brienne Lannister,_ soon to be tenured. 

She was shy and still modest despite having been naked before him countless times. She still turned crimson when he just whispered naughty, dirty things in her ear. She was one of the few people who wasn’t bowled over that he was Jaime Lannister, _that_ that son of Tywin Lannister. She called him an idiot, she told him to shut up, she rolled her eyes at him when impatient or when he was riling her up too much. She was also his strongest supporter, pushing him to pursue more and to have stronger faith in himself. He liked telling her he was strong enough. She always shook her head and countered, “No. You are a lot stronger than you think, husband.”

Husband. His name belonged to her lips, only her voice could say his name in such a way that aroused him and also turned him into a warm puddle of mush. But when she called him husband, it was a song, _his_ song. 

She had given him two healthy, beautiful sons. Before they married, before he even thought of marrying her, he had wanted their children to have her eyes. It had pleased him that her family all had her eyes, giving him hope that this trait would dominate over his green eyes. When the twins were born and opened their eyes, revealing their sapphire orbs, Jaime had cried, overwhelmed that they were finally in his arms and with Brienne’s eyes. It pleased every man to have a son, a child to carry his name, but what made Jaime truly happy was that his sons had his wife’s eyes.

Ty and Drew were two years old as of last month. They didn’t think to throw a party and thought to just spend the day with their sons at the zoo. Despite this, Tywin Lannister still called up later that night. After wishing his grandsons a happy birthday, he went straight to the point and thus, revealed the true purpose behind his call.

His green eyes hard despite the deep lines surrounding them, he demanded, “When do you intend to give them a brother or a sister?”

Selwyn Tarth was no better. As he waved at his grandsons over Wype, he cooed, “Ooh, you’re so big now, when will you have a little sister to take care of, hmm?”

That night, as the twins slept, Jaime and Brienne talked. They were having ice cream and had retreated to the couch with the tub and a blanket. 

After Brienne spooned peanut-butter with chocolate chips ice cream to his lips, she asked, “Jaime, do you remember what we talked about. . .do you remember, the one after all that confusion with the pregnancy tests?”

He let the ice cream melt in his mouth as he nodded. He frowned when he saw the worry in her eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

“Should I revisit what our fathers said today?”

He sighed and took the tub of ice cream from her. She watched him put it on the coffee table, along with the spoon. Then he turned to her.

“I was hoping you forgot that.” He cupped her cheek.

“A little hard to forget when Tywin Lannister issues a directive and my dad isn’t too subtle, either.”

“Do you want another child now? Are we ready?”

Brienne surprised him with her answer. “I don’t know.”

She was wearing one of his old t-shirts, a white, threadbare thing with a collar so loose it hung near her breasts. On her hips were one of his old boxers. It was an outfit that made his cock stir but with the uncertainty on her face and her slumped shoulders, sex was the last thing in Jaime’s mind. He put an arm around her.

“When we spoke during my birthday weekend, we agreed it’s too soon for a child.”

“We agreed. But how do you feel now?”

“I would like another child with you, Brienne. You know that. But I agreed with you when you said it’s too soon. Are you telling me. . .?” His voice trailed off.

Brienne put her head on his shoulder. “I really don’t know, Jaime.”

“If you don’t know, then now’s not the time.”

“Is it really that simple?”

“It might be.”

“But what if I’m already pregnant?” She picked her head up and looked at him.

He took a deep breath. “Are you late?”

“No. But. . .what if within the year I get pregnant? We’re using protection but you never know with these things. Remember that it only took one day when I skipped the pill. I worry about missing one or. . .you know, sometimes a pill isn’t one hundred percent.”

And they were fucking _so_ often, to boot, Jaime added to himself.

“I want to know how you feel if I get pregnant and we haven’t talked about having another yet.”

“I will be happy of course. I would like to have another with you, Brienne. But I can’t have you miserable or angry over having one. . .unplanned.”

“We didn’t exactly plan Ty and Drew. I think that turned out quite well, don’t you?”

He smiled. “Yes.”

“So maybe if. . .if we’re surprised. . .oh Jaime, I don’t like being like this. So unsure.”

“Then I’m going to be the sure one for the two of us for now. How does this sound to you? We continued working on our marriage and should it happen that we get pregnant, we go on with working. Just think of the child as a surprise bonus.”

“A surprise bonus,” Brienne echoed.

“You told me before you’re not sure if you’ll be happy if we have another one so soon. I told you that I understand and will not hate you it if takes you a while to get around idea there’s another life in you. That still stands, wife. Always.”

As Jaime found himself returning to the present, he thought about the idea of Brienne once again blooming with their child. It was a happy thought but he didn’t want her forced into something she wasn’t sure about. Of course, tonight he was forcing her to go out and have fun but this was one night, not a lifetime.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright with just the boys?” Brienne asked him as she detached Ty’s fingers from her hair. 

“I’ve looked after them on my own, just to remind you,” he told her. Then his eyes gleamed. “It would be interesting how our fathers will be looking after them.”

“Oh gods,” Brienne groaned but she was laughing. Tywin and Selwyn would be staying in their apartment to look after the children. Tywin had grumbled why they couldn’t be brought to Casterly Rock and Jaime pointed out that knowing him, he would turn over babysitting duties to one of his staff. Selwyn was more than happy to take on the task on his own, which had Tywin declaring that he could look after his grandsons too and thus volunteered to help the other man. 

“You needn’t worry so much about me,” Jaime told her. 

“I’m not. I just feel guilty that while I’m on a night out you’re stuck here.”

“Just make sure Ellaria has you home at a reasonable hour, young lady” Jaime told her, pretending to look stern. “And definitely no kissing other boys. And do I have to remind you how you handle alcohol so well?”

Brienne huffed, “I know. Don’t worry, Ellaria made sure it’s good, clean fun for us tonight. Especially since you gave her a checklist of do’s and don’ts. Don’t deny it, Jaime. She showed me a screen capture of your email.”

“I’m not. Oberyn also sent you a checklist, didn’t he? He told me. I believe one of the items there is to make sure Ellaria has vegetables in her meal.”

“Husbands,” Brienne shook her head. “What would we do without you?”

Though smiling, Jaime was serious. “Don’t even bother finding out.” 

Brienne rose to her knees and kissed him on the lips. “I don’t intend to.”

Then she picked up Ty from the floor, straightening up. Jaime bent to tie his shoelaces then followed, pulling Drew from the bed and into his arms. Together they headed for the living room. 

“Can you imagine Tywin living in a place that’s just a little bigger than a shoebox?” Brienne told Jaime as she deposited Ty into the enclosed playpen by the sofa. She took Drew from Jaime’s arms and put him next to his brother. 

“Can you imagine my father and _yours_ living together in a place just a little bigger than a shoebox?” Jaime said, grinning at their sons before he took Brienne by the elbow and led her to the couch. They sat down. Brienne put her legs on the coffee table in front while Jaime reclined, laying his head on her lap. His long legs hung over the other end of the couch. 

As Jaime pressed little kisses around her palm and her wrist, which put a vivid red on her face as she watched him, she said, “Let’s hope they don’t kill each other.”

“My money’s on Selwyn.”

She frowned. “Jaime.”

“What? Your dad was in the military, he’s way taller than Tywin. Hell, he can probably kill with his eyes. You slay me when your pretty blues only just happen to look at me.”

“So much for Tywin being a lion.”

“Do you have any idea what awaits us on this trip?” Jaime asked, looking up at her.

She brushed his hair away from his forehead. “Worried?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re not?”

“Of course I am. But there was stuff in the information packet about being against the elements and relying on instincts to survive and all that. That gives me an idea what’s in store for us. I’ve gone camping before. The worse they could do is drop us off in the middle of nowhere without the most basic supplies.” Her eyes flashed as she teased him, “Ah. Jaime Lannister, you’ve never gone camping before, have you? Never roughed it?”

“The sum of my `roughing it’ was living with boys for four years. Do you have any idea how filthy and smelly teenaged boys are?” He went to high school in Vale Prep. It was an exclusive boarding school for boys and girls. 

“Thank the Seven I don’t.” 

“I don’t believe it’s going to be so bad. If you’ve gone camping before, then you could teach me. Do you know how to make fire out of rubbing rocks together?”

“It’s not going to be _that_ rough, Jaime.”

“But what if it was? You’re the expert. How’s it going to be? Do I just wait until you return from hunting?”

“Hey, I’m not the only one hunting. I’ll teach how to set up a snare, skin a rabbit—“

Jaime shook his head. “Fuck, no, Brienne. Fucking no. Skin a rabbit? Rabbits are cute!”

“You eat rabbit stew!” 

“Are you telling me you can actually murder a helpless, adorable animal? What's wrong with you?”

Brienne rolled her eyes. “How’s this. I hunt for my food and you survive on leaves. I don’t think leaves would cry if you pluck them off.”

He turned toward her chest, nuzzling it. He unbuttoned her blouse until her breasts were free and he could nuzzle the small mounds. “I don’t think I want to go,” he said, pretending to sulk.

“We already paid a huge deposit. It’s going to be fine. Grow up, Jaime.” Despite speaking dismissively, she sounded a little breathless as he cupped one breast and tongued the nipple of the other. He wrapped his lips around one and started to suck eagerly. "Oh gods," she whispered.

Jaime sat up, trailing his nose from between her breasts, to her throat, inhaling her clean, vanilla scent until he reached her lips. Brienne opened her mouth as he pressed his to hers. He had shaved off his beard months ago. She missed the rough stubble but there was nothing better than being skin to skin with Jaime. 

He pulled her hand to the stiffness in his jeans. “I have a huge deposit,” he whispered as they kissed. “And something’s definitely up and growing.”

“Ellaria’s arriving any minute,” she moaned as he trailed his lips across her jawline. Her hand remained on his crotch while his hand squeezed her breast. “And we are not fucking with the twins watching us.”

At that, they both turned to look at the playpen. Ty and Drew were sitting on the floor but their eyes were wide and very blue as they watched the curious thing happening with their parents on the couch. Jaime groaned and buried his nose in her warmer neck.“Seven Hells.”

Reluctantly, they removed their hands from each other. Jaime buttoned up Brienne’s blouse, sighing loudly and regretfully as her sexy freckles and sexier tits were slowly hidden from his heated gaze. He cupped her flushed cheek and kissed her soundly on the mouth before rising to his feet.

“I think I need to—“ He sounded ragged.

She nodded, blushing deeper. “Of course.”

A grin shone on Brienne’s red face as soon as Jaime disappeared behind a wall and the bathroom door clicked shut. But she wasn’t in that good a shape herself—she was trembling and her lips felt swollen, with a slight sting, a condition that could only be alleviated by more of her husband’s kisses. She got up from the couch and went to the playpen. 

Ty and Drew were laughing at her funny faces when a buzz reached their door. Brienne hurried to the door and pressed a button. “Yes?”

“It’s me, darling,” came Ellaria’s lilting voice.

“Come on up.” Brienne pushed the button that unlocked the door downstairs.

She slipped on her shoes, a blood-red, snake-print pair that elevated her outfit from a mere white shirt and narrow dark jeans to something classically stylish. A tube of lipstick was withdrawn from her purse.

Just then, Jaime was letting himself out of the bathroom. He paused as he watched her before the huge mirror in the living room, tracing lipstick around her full mouth. He looked at the ceiling for help. I just finished, come on, he thought, feeling the familiar twitching in his pants yet again.

Brienne, unaware of her effect on him, turned to him. “Ellaria’s here.” She put her lipstick back in the purse and checked for money, keys and cellphone.

“Come here and kiss me with those red lips of yours,” Jaime invited her, holding out his arms. A lock of his golden hair fell on his forehead. There was a dazed look in his face.

“Okay, but try not to smudge,” Brienne teased him, going to him.

Their lips met. Their arms went around each other. They were still kissing, gasping against each other when Ellaria’s loud voice finally got through them.

“Oy!” She called out from behind the door, banging her small fist on it. “Stop fucking! I will only have your wife for a couple of hours, Jaime! Get your paws off her!”

“Shit,” Brienne swore, burying her face in Jaime’s neck. He chuckled.

“She’s coming right out, damn it!” Jaime called back as he dropped his arms from her waist. His smile was lazy and cocky as Brienne turned to the mirror to fix her lipstick. Then she took her purse, smiled at him and said, “I won’t be out too long.”

“I’ll be naked and waiting,” he promised solemnly.

“You’re impossible, husband,” Brienne told him as she headed for the door, briefly revealing Ellaria. 

Ellaria waved at Jaime over Brienne’s shoulder. “We’ll try not to have too much fun,” she told him and Brienne blushed some more. With a final glance at him, she shut the door behind her.

Jaime looked at himself in the mirror and burst out laughing. Red lipstick marks were all over his face. When he faced his sons, Drew and Ty started making kissing sounds.


	2. A Night Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellaria and Brienne have dinner and girl talk.

Ellaria Sand-Martell was one of those women put on earth to make the rest of her sex feel bad about themselves, at first glance. Lithe and graceful, she moved as if with wings on her feet, and tend to gesture wildly with her hands that was always charming and attention-getting. Her hair was a wild, sexy tumble of dark curls that never looked messy, though she confessed to Brienne she would only run her fingers through it with some product and was good to go. She had expressive dark eyes that was never without a twinkle. The rest of her face were small, delicate features that made her look like a pretty doll, but the kind that was a rare, collector’s item. When she spoke, she revealed a soft, husky voice that tend to hint she was either thinking something naughty or about to say something as such. Truly, when Ellaria was in the room, you noticed her and never forgot.

It took Brienne thirty-five years to stop feeling awkward about her size. There was nothing to be done about her height, nothing to be done about her broad, muscular form, or facial features so undeserving of eyes that beautiful. She met Ellaria and her husband Oberyn through Jaime. There was hardly anyone in Westeros who didn’t know Oberyn Martell, who famously abdicated in order to marry Ellaria, and she was the sort of woman whom you gave up everything for. Oberyn would be quick to deny he gave up anything, that in fact, he gained everything.

When Brienne first met Ellaria, she was wary. More than enough pretty girls in her life had reminded her with sadistic pleasure that she was ugly and worthless. She worried that Cersei would react similarly, but she didn’t. She thought her goodsister an exception until she met Margaery and Lollys. Margaery was definitely prettier and Lollys quite plain-looking but no one had mistaken Lollys for a man.

Brienne didn’t expect that she and Ellaria would become good friends, and out of the women she had come to know since Jaime Lannister came into her life and stayed, the one whom she was closest to. Ellaria had faced some scorn too, until this day, about how she had bewitched Oberyn and deprived Dorne of its prince, that she was a commoner who had aspirations for her own crown and only pursued Oberyn for that reason. The truth was she loved him, deeply and truly. Just as Brienne was often judged for what she lacked in looks, so was Ellaria for being too beautiful. It hurt her that she was viewed as a gold-digging slut. She had been a top supermodel when she met Oberyn, successful and rich in her own right. She still modelled occasionally but those days were more or less behind her. She was beyond happy to raise her daughters, pretty, delicate, sweet things who were mini-me versions of her and Oberyn, and ran a small but successful leather goods business named Sandsnake.

Ellaria was currently seven months pregnant with daughter number three. Her curls were cut to her chin, giving her a wild, just-got-out-of-bed-fucking-my-gorgeous-husband look, her eyes were bright as a night sky filled with stars. She wore a silk, deep violet top that loose and flowed over her round belly. Tight black leggings and gold high heels finished the look. Brienne raised her eyebrow at the height of the heels. Ellaria was five-foot-nine barefoot. Her heels put her at Brienne’s ear-level. 

They went to Wyman Manderly for dinner. Since the restaurant was known for its juicy, succulent steaks, Brienne indulged on a prime cut while Ellaria requested she wanted hers extra-medium rare. “Oh, don’t worry, the doctor said it’s okay,” she said, waving a hand at her friend’s inquiring look. Then she added a bottle of Baratheon red, once again telling Brienne there was no harm with indulging in a glass in her condition. They requested a side order of steamed vegetables for Brienne and buttered vegetables for Ellaria.

When the waiter left with their orders and menus, Ellaria turned to Brienne. She smiled at her friend then asked, “So, you and Jaime are really doing this extreme counselling thing, huh?”

“I know, it sounds weird,” Brienne admitted, unable to stop the flush creeping up her cheeks. 

Ellaria shook her head. Even this was a graceful, sexy motion. “I don’t believe so. Couples should check on each other now and then. But I do wonder why you’re willing to give up your creature comforts just to strengthen your relationship. I know I won’t last a day camping. Sorry.”

“Oh, and Oberyn will?” Brienne said, laughing.

Ellaria giggled. “What about Jaime?”

“So far, he’s only worried about being provided only with the barest necessities. I don’t think he’s realized he’s going to be without a razor and hair products and deodorant. And he is a very fastidious man.”

“Oh, don’t remind me. You try living with a prince. He may no longer be in line, darling, but he still expects the best of the best.”

A server arrived with their water. He poured the cool liquid into their goblets, asked if there was anything they needed and only left when they told him they were fine  
.  
“Do you have any names?’ Brienne asked, glancing at Ellaria’s belly.

“We’re thinking either Sarella or Elia, after Oberyn’s sister.”

“Beautiful names.”

“Thank you. I think so too.” Ellaria put a gentle hand on her belly, beaming. “And you and Jaime? Still on the fence about having more children?”  
Ellaria knew of Brienne’s apprehensions about having another child. Two years may be enough time to have another for some but not for her. Ellaria understood it. Though she no longer worked as much, she was well aware that every child needed time and devotion, not to mention that it tend to come first in a marriage, whether intentional or not. 

Quietly, Brienne told her about being pressured by Tywin and her own dad. Ellaria reached for her hand and squeezed it in sympathy.

“Maybe I shouldn’t be saying this because I’m pregnant but it’s no fun all the time being pregnant and raising a child is continuing hard work,” she said, frowning. “Sure, I love being pregnant, but at least half the time, I hate my sore back, I hate that my feet have swelled, I hate that I can’t see my feet and I am not looking forward to another round of sleepless nights so soon. And that’s when they’re not yet teenagers. Can you imagine three teenaged Martell daughters?” Her daughters Tyene and Nymeria were only a year apart, and the third, seven years behind. She sighed. “And I hate that Oberyn and I are so tired all we do is sleep and even then, it’s not much. Off the top of my head, that’s one of the difficulties. There are more. So I know where you’re coming from, Brienne, and I must say with you and Jaime and counselling, maybe another child could be set a bit further back.”

“I told him I don’t think I’ll be as happy when I was pregnant with the boys if I’m pregnant now,” Brienne admitted.

“And that doesn’t make you a terrible person,” Ellaria assured her. She looked at her friend’s flushed face. “Even I wasn’t that thrilled at first when I found out I was pregnant again. I’m forty.”

“You and Oberyn weren’t planning another child?”

“Oh, we’ve always wanted more but since this one took a while, we thought we’ll just have two.”

“You’re still young, Ellaria.”

“Well. But not that young. You are, however.” Ellaria patted Brienne’s hand. “Don’t worry so much, Brienne. Can you do that?” She teased.

“You’re right. I should just, you know, relax. When I think of my life, I wonder how I can still have time to worry about this. I’m on the tenure track, I’ll find out before the year ends if I’m going to be given tenure. Jaime’s busier than ever, what with these companies demanding the Lannister touch on their campaigns. And there’s also how Ty and Drew just can’t seem to stop chewing their shoes. Is that normal?”

“Just as long as they’re not dirty. Accept that children will put things in their mouths they shouldn’t and spit out those they should.” Ellaria shuddered. “I didn’t tell you about the time I just looked away from Tyene and Nymeria for a mere moment, I swear, and when I turned back to them, Tyene had a living snake in her hand and Nymeria was crying because she wanted to play with the horrid little thing. At least they didn’t put it in their mouths but I almost died.”

Their conversation continued to flow easily, and got more animated when their food was served and they started eating. Ellaria liked Brienne. She didn’t have a lot of female friends. This was one curse of being beautiful and the world affirming it through her former job. She was thought of as shallow and vapid, here mere presence, whether physical or on a magazine cover, sending women scurrying to the mirror to check for lines on their face, frown over wrinkles on their thighs, sadly pinch at the extra roll in their stomachs. But the worse was when they thought she was a temptation to husbands and boyfriends. It was difficult for other women to wrap their heads around the idea that Ellaria Martell loved her husband and was faithful to him. 

Brienne was probably the only woman in Ellaria’s life who looked past the surface. She was a little intimidated of Brienne when they first met. She was a professor in King’s Landing University, highly-respected and much-admired. Academic and scholarly types tend to be either clueless about her or pretend they’ve never heard of her, as if it was beneath them to know anything about popular culture. True, Brienne was a little tongue-tied when they were introduced but Oberyn had explained that she was shy and took a while to warm up to people. He was right. He also failed to mention that she had a kind heart, which was Ellaria’s favorite thing about her.

It was great relief to be able to talk to someone as she did with Brienne. Maybe because their husbands were best friends, hence why they took to each other. Maybe each knew how it was to be judged by appearances. Ellaria felt no pity when she first set eyes on Brienne. Yes, she wasn’t attractive but there was a brightness in her unusual sapphire eyes that made it hard to look away from them. Ellaria also respected a woman who can go toe-to-toe with the arrogant, too-cocky Jaime Lannister and emerge unscathed. 

After dinner, the two women went for a stroll. Ellaria linked her arm through Brienne’s elbow as they talked. They drew attention because they made an unusual, striking pair—the pregnant, dark stunner with impractical high heels and the plain blonde with a curious blueness in her eyes. They walked until Ellaria got hungry again and craved something sinfully sweet. Brienne didn’t believe in eating sugars a couple of hours before bed but she indulged her friend. Grinning, she pulled Ellaria behind her as they entered Hot Pie, a coffee shop known for its ultra-moist cakes and melt-in-your-mouth brownies. Ellaria sniffed appreciatively at the thick aroma of sugar and icing.

“I’m getting this one,” Brienne told her as Ellaria sat down with a happy sigh. Ellaria had paid for their dinner, haughtily ignoring Brienne's protests. 

“Alright, if you insist,” Ellaria told her. She looked at the menu written in bright pink chalk on the blackboard menu mounted high behind the counter. “I’ll have hot, spicy Dornish chocolate and red velvet cake.”

Brienne frowned. “Won’t the chocolate be too strong for you?”

“You have little faith in me, my friend?”

“Fine.”

“Don’t you go ordering a boring fruit cup, Brienne. Make me feel bad and we’re over,” Ellaria called after her. “I mean it. Friendship O-V-E-R.”

Brienne blushed. She had intended to order a fruit cup. 

So as much as she loathed it, she ordered two slices of red velvet cake, a cup of spicy Dornish hot chocolate and a glass of warm milk for herself. Ellaria rolled her eyes at the milk when their order arrived. 

They talked some more over their dessert and hot beverages. Each were reluctant to part but it was close to eleven in the evening. Oberyn had already called to ask Ellaria if he needed to pick her up. Jaime texted Brienne to tell her he was naked in bed and waiting. Brienne gasped and put away her phone after she clicked on a photo her husband had sent, showing to her how _hard evidence_ of how _long_ he had been waiting. Ellaria threw her head back and laughed, silver ripples in the air, at the bright, crimson flush that overtook her friend’s face.

They hugged each other and got into their respective cabs, promising to see each other soon. “Try not to kill Jaime,” Ellaria said, kissing her on the cheek. Brienne blushed even more.

Brienne didn’t kill Jaime when she got home. But as he came harshly, breathing in hard, pitched gasps as he collapsed next to her in the aftermath of their fucking, he told her she came close. Very close.

“I can’t think of a better way to go, whew” he panted against her ear.

Flushed from sex and his compliment, she kissed him on the lips, pulled away and whispered, because this was the volume she could only manage now, her throat was raw and it was a wonder their twins were still asleep, “Shut up.”

Jaime’s eyes gleamed. “Make me, wife.”

And then he pulled her over him, his mouth hungry for hers once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how true this is but apparently, for the French, it's okay to have a glass of wine when pregnant. I might be wrong.


	3. It's Going to Be Fine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne prepare for their trip and give their fathers last-minute instructions for their sons.

Despite their carnal indulgence the night before, Jaime and Brienne were up early. They showered together, satisfying themselves with caresses and kisses because of the preparations they still had to. However, Jaime insisted on towelling Brienne dry, enjoying how her freckles acquired the color of deep raspberry as he progressed through her body, slipping a kiss or a lick every now and then. She smiled shyly as he cupped her nape and tugged her lips down to his for a kiss. 

He made a little protesting sound when she pulled away but she was quick to remind him. “Our fathers will be here any minute.”

He hung his head. “Fine. Uh, would you mind checking on the boys while I give our bags a final look?”

“No problem.” She kissed him again just to torture him and left, her towel clutched to her chest.

Jaime got their checklist. Melisandre had given them one to make sure they had every item there. Hiking boots, thermal blankets, sleeping bags, tents, survival tools and the like would be provided but they would have to bring their own clothes, medication, if needed, and if they had a medical condition, clearance from the doctor. There was also medical assistance on standby should an accident or anything unfortunate should happen.  
Jaime checked Brienne’s bag first, making sure she had her mini-pills packed. When he saw her underwear tucked at the bottom, he thought about removing them. He got all hot imagining Brienne in the wild sans panties. Sense kicked in just in time to remind him she wasn’t going to be too happy without them when out in the wild. She knew how to hunt. He didn’t. His wife had a gentle heart but she just might deprive him of food in revenge because he got rid of her underwear.

“Wife,” he called, the open door of their bedroom making his voice reach her easily. “Don’t you need tampons?”

He swore he felt her blush despite being in the other room. “Uh, um, no. I had my period last week,” she called back. “I’ll be at the kitchen feeding Drew and Ty.”

Good. That meant they wouldn’t need painkillers or a heating pad. Jaime then checked his own bag, making sure he had enough shirts, pants, socks and underwear. 

He got dressed, wondering for the nth time if camping and making a progress report of each other every night and reporting it to their therapist was what they needed. Or maybe it was the idea that got him iffy. Jaime Lannister grew up with a lot of comfort, he certainly knew hard work and wasn’t afraid of it but when he worked hard, he did like to be very comfortable. He blow-dried his hair, put some product in to make it look artfully messy. He was forty-five years old but knew that he looked younger. This made it possible for him to get away with trends and styles no man his age should even think about attempting. 

He went to the kitchen but stopped when he saw Brienne with his sons. She was wearing only a towel so he saw lots of sexy, freckled skin. But it was the gentleness on her face that stopped him right in his tracks.

She had put Ty and Drew on their high chairs. Each had a bowl of fresh fruit on their tables, consisting of sliced bananas, strawberries and melon. She was pouring milk in plastic tumblers while she indulged her boys in a conversation that made little sense but for their little ears and the bright smiles on their faces, meant mommy time. Drew pointed at Brienne, shrieking, “Blue! Mommy, blue!” and Ty, beating his fists on the table, rattling some fruit off his bowl, joined in. “Mommy, good. Smell good!”

Jaime wondered how and when Brienne managed to get their sons up and in their high chairs, prepare coffee, prepare their breakfast (sliced fruit, no less), and have pancakes cooking? She never ceased to amaze him. 

“Daddy!” Ty shouted, seeing him move toward Brienne. His eyes were so blue and bright. Then he pursed his lips and started making kissing sounds.

Frowning, Brienne turned to Jaime. “What’s that about?”

He grinned, putting his arms around her waist. “This.”

He kissed her lingeringly, brushing his lips gently in response to her tentative, shy kisses. Giggling, she urged him away from her. Drew and Ty started making kissing sounds. 

Drew beat his spoon on the table. “Daddy, me!”

“Since you couldn’t keep your hands away from me,” Jaime said, pretending a long-suffering sigh as he walked to their sons, “they have been all about kisses.”

Brienne, pink from forehead to her chest, grinned. She started flipping the pancakes. “Oh, that is cute.”

Jaime kissed Drew on the cheek but then Ty grabbed him on the sleeve of his shirt, demanding his turn. Jaime and Brienne laughed as the little boy kissed his father.

“I’ll take care of the cooking and the boys while you get dressed,” Jaime told her, nodding at the pancakes.

“You’re sure? This won’t take long.”

“If it won’t take long, it wouldn’t be very difficult if I take over for a while, won’t it? Unless you want my father to know just how far down your body those sexy freckles of yours go.”

“Alright.”

While Brienne went to their room, Jaime went to the stove. He kept one eye on the kids and one eye on the pancakes. As he got the maple syrup and pulled the butter from the fridge, he tried teaching them new words like freckles, kiss, hot mommy, sexy mommy. Ty, mastering one of the words quickly, started shouting, “Daddy kiss Mommy!” 

Drew got one of the phrases right. “Hot Mommy!” 

“She sure is!” Jaime agreed, grinning. He continued with plating the pancakes.

Brilliant kids, he thought as he reached for mugs in the cupboard and started pouring coffee in them, still keeping an eye on his tykes even with his back turned to them. They would slay women when they were older.

In between sips of coffee and forkfuls of pancakes, Jaime fed Drew and Ty. Brienne soon returned, dressed in a white boatneck t-shirt with navy stripes, faded jeans and white sneakers. Spotting her first, Ty said, “Kiss! Mommy kiss!”

“Alright, my love,” Brienne said, kissing him on the forehead. Then it was Drew pulling at her sleeve demanding his turn. She smiled as Drew kissed her on the lips.

“Daddy, kiss Mommy,” Ty ordered.

“You heard the little dictator,” Jaime told Brienne, bidding her to approach him. She lowered her head to him, expecting only a light brush of his lips. She gasped when Jaime pushed his tongue to play with hers. When he let her pull away, her mouth was swollen and she was blinking rapidly.

“I can’t believe you did that in front of children,” she told him, blushing furiously. Her eyes were overbright.

Jaime shrugged innocently. “Couldn’t help it, Brienne.”

“You really are impossible, husband.” But a small smile teased at the corners of her lips.

The couple had their breakfast in between feeding their children. They managed to talk, Jaime asking Brienne if maybe they could have dinner at Wyman Manderly by themselves next time. She told him that she and Ellaria laughed over their delicate, prima donna husbands. 

Unperturbed, Jaime rejoined, “Well, in case you’ve forgotten already, remember when you brought me to Tarth the first time and we decided you’re going to be my knight and I’m your soft, delicate damsel?”

Her eyes flashed. “You’re always special cargo, Jaime. All you lack is the red carpet treatment.”

“There’s an idea.”

Their flight was at noon but had requested their fathers to come by early. They were cleaning up the kitchen, Jaime loading the dishwasher and Brienne wiping down the counters and the table, when Selwyn Tarth arrived, announcing his presence too loudly over the intercom. Soon he was knocking at their door.

“Daddy!” Brienne exclaimed, running toward him. Regardless of his suitcase, she threw her arms around her father, who patted her soundly on the back.

Selwyn Tarth was a grim-faced, stiff-shouldered, wide-chested giant who stood six feet four inches tall. His hair was trimmed and cut close to his scalp, similar to a military buzz cut. His eyes were big, flashing blue orbs. He wasn’t a handsome man but had the face and presence that commanded respect and dignity. 

Jaime approached them, getting the attention of Selwyn Tarth. Brienne stepped away as her father held out an arm to Jaime.

“Get here, Lannister. Don’t be shy,” he barked, and engulfed Jaime in a hug that nearly broke his ribs before he was let go. He winced, rubbing his ribs. Brienne kissed him on the forehead and he slipped an arm around her waist. 

“Poppa!” Drew and Ty shouted when Selwyn broke away from Jaime and Brienne and went to them. Here, Selwyn smiled, hugely. He easily pulled them up from their high chairs.

“My sweet, beautiful grandsons,” Selwyn told them happily, holding one in each arm effortlessly.

“We just finished eating but I can make you something if you like, Dad,” Brienne told him, leaning against Jaime as he tightened his arm around her waist.

“Oh, I ate on the plane. Hardly nutritious but it will do for now,” Selwyn answered in a singsong voice, rocking the twins in his arms.

“How about coffee?” Jaime offered.

“I would prefer tea. Do you have green tea?”

“Of course,” Brienne said, making a step forward but Jaime stopped her. He cupped her face, whispered to her ear, “Let me,” and then kissed her on the neck. She blushed. She was okay when her husband was affectionate but when it was front of her dad. . .

“Why don’t you sit down, Dad. The twins aren’t exactly light,” Brienne said, leading him to the couch. Jaime poured water in the kettle and fired up the stove.

“They’re big boys,” Selwyn agreed, sitting down. He laughed as Drew and Ty giggled. “Healthy, big boys.”

“Well, the big part is a given, but the healthy bit, not the easiest,” Brienne said. “Just make sure to not give them candy before bedtime or that often.”

“Done. Now where’s the other babysitter?”

Jaime laughed loudly from the kitchen. “Sir, I don’t think my father would appreciate hearing that. I think he sees himself as a childcare coordinator of sorts.”

“Coordinator,” Selwy scoffed. “My apologies, Jaime, but your father has no idea identifying which is the front end of a diaper and the back.”

“Oh, and you do?” Brienne challenged.

“Damn right, I do. I did change you when I was home.”

“How did Baby Brienne’s poop smell?” Jaime asked.

_“Jaime!”_ Brienne yelled.

“Like putrid dragon’s breath,” Selwyn replied.

It was the fastest Brienne turned crimson. _“Dad!”_

“And that’s putting it mildly.”

“Shut up, Dad. And Jaime—“ Brienne shot him a warning look. She scowled when he rolled his eyes and blew her a kiss.

Brienne sat on the couch beside Selwyn and started instructing him in the twins’ care. Jaime finished with the dishwasher and continued with cleaning the counter and the table with a damp sponge while waiting for the water to boil. 

He had a tea bag in a mug and was pouring water into it a few minutes later when a loud buzzing sound filled the apartment. From across the apartment, he met Brienne’s eyes. They shrugged and at the same time said, “Tywin.”

“I’ll get it,” Jaime said, jogging to the door. He pressed the button. “Father.”

“Let me in, Jaime,” Tywin commanded.

“Yes, Your Grace,” Jaime answered.

“I do not appreciate—Seven Hells, is the door open?”

“Yes.” Jaime pushed the button that released the door. “It’s open.”

“Dad, you and Tywin are going to have to get along,” Brienne told Selwyn. “I do not want you getting into any petty arguments and I certainly will not appreciate my sons acquiring yet another interesting vocabulary.” It had taken a while to get Drew and Ty to stop saying “ass” and “fuck” and pointing at random persons. Jaime and Brienne still couldn’t figure out where the twins picked it up. Since it happened during his birthday weekend, they could only guess who among the guests had provided the boys that lovely lesson.

“On the contrary, Brienne, it was your uncles who taught you a most interesting vocabulary,” Tywin reminded her, bouncing Drew in his arms while Ty crawled from the couch and threw his arms around Brienne’s legs. She picked him up and set him on her lap. 

“Try to be a little more patient with my father,” Jaime told Selwyn, joining them and putting an arm around Brienne’s shoulder. His green eyes twinkled. “Like your daughter is with me. Lannisters are not the easiest persons around.”

“Don’t I know it,” Selwyn commented as Tywin knocked on the door. Brienne narrowed her eyes at at him while Jaime got up to answer.  
Tywin Lannister, even in his casual attire of a gray sport coat over a collared black t-shirt and denims, looked out of place in their cluttered apartment. He was a tall, slim man, with his silver hair slicked back, revealing a high forehead. His eyes were green and very cold, with a slender nose, sharp, angular cheekbones and an elegant jawline. He was an older version of Jaime but the men differed in the eyes. Tywin’s ran to humourless while Jaime always had a playful spark. 

He was frowning at Jaime’s attire of a green plaid shirt thrown over a white t-shirt, faded jeans and sneakers. He smiled when he saw Brienne, coming to her and hugging her softly. He smiled at his grandsons, who smiled at him and said, “Pops!”

For Selwyn Tarth, his face resumed its grim mask as they shook hands.

When the two grandfathers offered to look after their grandsons, Jaime and Brienne had been speechless. Not from surprise but at the idea that the two men who had a great dislike for each other would willingly put themselves in a small space, with children, for five days. They were civil to each other, so fucking proper, according to Brienne, that it was downright creepy—which Jaime agreed with. 

But they couldn’t imagine leaving their sons with anyone who wasn’t family. Tyrion and Margaery, just months into their marriage, were still very much in the honeymoon phase. Margaery was pregnant too. Robert and Cersei were also pregnant, and aside from their son Joffrey, had demanding jobs. 

At first, the idea had been either Tywin or Selwyn, with a nanny providing assistance. Sansa Stark no longer worked for the Lannisters. She got into early admission at Winterfell University and though it broke the twins’ and their parents’ hearts, they had been well aware that she was not going to be around for long when she was first hired. They couldn’t find a good replacement yet and it was decided that Jaime would work from home.

“What’s the point of owning the company if I couldn’t get away whenever I wanted?” He pointed out when she expressed resistance to the idea. He then told her that he could attend meetings and conferences via Wype and should he need to leave for a photo shoot, then the kids could be dropped off at Casterly Rock and picked up on the way home. He had to remind Brienne that she would know at the end of the year if she was going to be given tenure. “It wouldn’t do you good to leave even for a few months or you’re back to square one.”

Their fathers would never be the best of friends—they never expected that but for the sake of their grandchildren, they had to put aside their differences and fucking get along, as Jaime put it. Brienne wasn’t worried about the children while they were gone—not much. She was worried about Selwyn possibly beating up Tywin because the latter could be as impossible as his son and a much bigger diva. Jaime worried about the same thing. 

Selwyn Tarth and Tywin Lannister also had huge amounts of pride and gigantic egos. It wouldn’t do for them to know they were being watched over. For Jaime and Brienne’s peace of mind, they had colluded with Tyrion, Margaery, Robert, Cersei, even Bronn and Addam to visit every now and then and check the old men for cuts and bruises. Brienne had no doubt that on their own, Selwyn and Tywin could manage their sons—yes, _even Tywin_ —but together? 

These were the thoughts in their mind as they gave their dads instructions on the care of Drew and Ty and schedule, as well as places they liked to visit and the number of their paediatrician. Thankfully, the twins weren’t allergic to any food or anything and weren’t highly sensitive. Selwyn nodded, asking a question or two every now and then. Tywin took out his tablets and began taking notes, also asking his own set of questions. 

All too soon, Jaime and Brienne were kissing and hugging their sons goodbye. "I love you, I love you," Brienne murmuredto Ty and Drew, kissing them repeatedly before Jaime had to pull her away. Then they were going downstairs towards the cab waiting for them. Jaime had Brienne precede him in the car as he oversaw the loading of their bags. Satisfied, he joined her.

They didn’t speak as the cab pulled away and began to move. Brienne put her head on Jaime’s shoulder and he squeezed her knee.

“What do you think?” She asked him.

“The kids will be alright,” he answered.

She raised an eyebrow. “Which one?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am seriously excited to see how Selwyn and Tywin would take care of the twins TOGETHER.


	4. Tests and Dots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne arrive in The Riverlands. They find out that assessment tests are serious and not for making naughty dot pictures.  
> Brienne also learns about golden showers.  
> No warnings. Because she doesn't learn about them in the way you're probably thinking! Just go ahead and read, people!

The flight to The Riverlands was short, an hour and a half by plane. Due to tail winds they arrived twenty minutes earlier. Jaime laughed when Brienne scowled at the pilot’s excited announcement about arriving early. She’d had her head buried in the information packet from the moment the seatbelt sign had been switched off, going over every detail there and looking for holes. She looked like she wanted to punch a hole at the pilot’s news and Jaime had to pluck it off her fingers.

“Whatever questions we have, we’ll ask this Melisandre,” he told her firmly. 

After getting their bags from the carousel, they were pleased to find that their airport pick-up was already waiting for them. He was a young man in his late twenties, small-boned and a bit frail-looking. But his smile was friendly as he scanned the arriving crowd, his hold on the sign Welcome Mr. and Mrs. Jaime Lannister firm. When the couple approached him, his grin almost split his face in half as he introduced himself as Robin.

“I’ll be taking you to Moongate Leisure & Spa, Mr. Lannister, Mrs. Lannister,” he told them.

They were going to be met at Moongate Leisure & Spa. From the independent research Jaime conducted, Melisandre’s practice was tied up with Moongate Leisure & Spa.The package they had paid for not only included the five-day camping trip but after that, a two-night, three-day stay at the spa. Jaime was not looking forward to sleeping in the woods but he was excited about massages, body scrubs and other luxury baths. 

“Is Melisandre waiting for us?” Brienne asked.

“Yes, Mrs. Lannister. She actually owns it.”

“I don’t think an owner would put us at much risk on her property,” Brienne whispered to Jaime as Robin ushered them in a luxurious, silver-gray SUV. They were going to sit at the back.“We don’t really have to worry about wild animals. At least, not the kind that would kill us.”

“But you’re still going to hunt down a poor rabbit,” he told her.

She rolled her eyes. “Alright. If hunting bothers you that much, I’ll take care of the bloody animals and you’re in charge of cooking.”

“Only cooking,” Jaime clarified as Robin got in the driver’s seat. “I don’t know how to skin animals. I know, I know, I’m impossible.”

“No, I was going to wonder out loud how you’re so maddening but I still love you,” Brienne protested, quite loudly. She blushed and it spread down to her neck when Robin winked at her from the rearview mirror.

Jaime, enjoying her embarrassment and her passionate explanation, kissed her loudly on the cheek. “And I thank you for loving an impossible, over-privileged ass like me.” 

He locked her to his side by putting an arm around her shoulder. He dropped his other hand on her knee and slowly walked his fingers up her thigh.

As Robin drove, he told them, “Ah, you’re a sweet couple, aren’t you? Very unusual.”

“How—Why is that?” Brienne asked, ignoring how Jaime was nuzzling her neck with his nose. She stiffened when his hand slipped under her shirt and caressed the firm, wide span of her stomach. She gripped his wrist to stop him from going further up. 

“It’s always the troubled sort that come to Melisandre,” Robin said. He was staring at the road ahead but Brienne’s eyes were wide, panicked pools that he might glance at the mirror and see what she and Jaime were doing—what Jaime was doing. 

Since his hand couldn’t go any further, Jaime lowered it between Brienne’s thighs. _Gods, did she just went hot down there? She's so fucking responsive._ It was a fight to keep his eyes open rather than closing them in pleasure. He wanted to groan his wife's name. Instead, he cleared his throat hard and asked Robin casually, “What’s Melisandre’s success rate?”

As he rubbed at the dampening spot between Brienne’s jean-clad thighs, his other hand slipped under her shirt and traced soft, soothing circles on her back. The seats were high enough, concealing their activity from Robin—who was focused with his driving. And Brienne, despite her resistance, shooting him furtive, warning glances, was slowly rubbing herself against his palm. Sweat beaded at the top of her lip. He licked his own lips instead. 

“Very high,” Robin assured him. “I’m not just saying that because I work for her. But my Mom and Dad also went to her—really awful, they were screaming and couldn’t stand each other but now it’s a huge effort to break them apart.”

“It doesn’t take much effort to break something when it's fragile,” Brienne growled, red-faced and her eyes stormy as she pushed Jaime’s insistent hand from between her legs. She clamped her legs shut. She smirked, noticing his eyes watering at her crushing grip on his wrists. “Like bones, wouldn’t you agree, husband?”

Jaime winced and let her push his hand away. “Yes.”

Robin, still unaware, shrugged. “Bond’s stronger than bones, Mrs. Lannister.”

“Yep. On that I agree,” Jaime piped up, giving up. But the soft, sleepy look in Brienne’s stare told him that she wasn’t that bothered with what he did. He bit his lip as she put a hand on his knee and squeezed it in reassurance. There was no mistaking the look on her face. _For now._  
“Can you tell us what to expect?” She asked as Jaime put his hand over hers. 

“From what my parents told me, Melisandre designs these scenarios based on the couples’ results on a series of questions. You do remember answering a test, don’t you?”

Brienne nodded while Jaime looked puzzled. “It was given after we filled up the application form,” she reminded him. “Then we returned it to them through mail?”

Jaime’s frown cleared. “I just shaded random circles until it formed a pretty pattern,” he confessed.

He waited for Brienne to admonish him but she surprised him. “So did I.”

Robin shook his head. “Oh, that’s not good. Those questions are serious.”

“Robin, I do not answer questions regarding my fantasies about my wife on paper. That’s hers and mine,” Jaime’s voice was sharp.

“So do I. Whatever fantasies we have is our business,” Brienne added.

“But it’s imperative you answer the test seriously. Else whatever Melisandre comes up with is compromised and then. . .oh, man.”

Brienne’s eyes narrowed. “What could happen to us?”

“I don’t know. Really, ma’am. I swear to you.”

“You said Melisandre designs scenarios. What scenario did your parents have?”

“They never told me and I didn’t ask. Come on, you don’t expect to ask them, right?”

Jaime was grim as he looked at Brienne. “We’re fucked.”

“Maybe it won’t be so bad. Robin, are you familiar with other scenarios?”

“Well, uh, there was one that involved some fireplay. Even Melisandre wasn’t comfortable about that. She had to convince the people to tone it down a lot. There was also one that involved, uh. . .golden showers.”

Innocent, Brienne asked, “Golden showers?”

Jaime reddened. “It’s when you get a sexual turn-on by having someone pee on you.”

She looked genuinely shocked. _“What?”_

“Hey, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”

“Jaime Lannister, are you telling me you’ve gotten peed on and it turned you on?”

“I have never participated in something like that. But I know people. . .who have. And enjoyed it.” Jaime’s face was the red of his name.

Brienne’s eyes were wide. “We’re fucked.”

“Melisandre had to get another consent from the couple for that. She wasn’t comfortable with it either,” Robin thought to tell them.

“Oh, Seven Hells,” Jaime groaned. “We’re going to be asked to flay living pigs or work in a tannery or something.”

“I don’t want you peeing on me,” Brienne told Jaime, still not over the fact that there were people who liked it. “Don’t you fucking pee on me, Jaime Lannister, or I will put a knife through you.”

“I won’t pee on you even if that’s what our results say I should do!” He protested. “Don’t you pee on me, either.” 

“But there are other cool ones. Like, secret agents. Spy stuff. Some couples did that.”

Brienne frowned. “That’s not so bad.”

“Or good cop, bad cop. Undercover cop.”

Jaime grinned. “I like that. I’m the suspect and Brienne goes undercover as a hooker.”

“There’s also, uh, professor-student.”

Brinne’s frown deepened. “I’m not comfortable with that.”

Jaime winked at her. “I would like to be the student in danger of failing and I beg the naughty professor to make me _work for it._ ”

“I don’t understand. The packet said something about being against the elements.”

“Well, that’s the most basic, I think. It’s usually for couples who just need a little shake-up. They go camping with the barest essentials then give Melisandre nightly reports on each other.”

“I think that’s what we only need,” Brienne said in relief, grinning at Jaime. “We only need a shake-up, that’s all.” 

“A reboot,” Jaime echoed. 

Soon, Moongate Leisure & Spa loomed over them. It was a collection of quaint, log cottages. To the right was the wide, blue mirror of a lake, with colourful speedboats parked at the edge. Robin got the door open for them. As the Lannisters stepped out, a woman with long, red hair exited from one of the taller cottages. 

She was petite and skinny, with poreless pale skin. Her eyesbrows were curved in a graceful arc and sat high on her face, giving her a perpetually surprised look. She was not a beautiful woman but she moved with a measured, sensual grace, emphasized by her tight, all-white white dress printed with giant roses. 

“The Lannisters have come,” she announced with a smile, holding out her arms open as she approached them. “I am Melisandre. Welcome.”

“Hello,” Jaime said, nodding at her as he offered his hand. “I’m Jaime, and this is my wife, Brienne.”

Melisandre shook their hands, nodding, still smiling. “How was your flight, if I may ask?”

“We got in early. I hope that doesn’t upset the schedule or anything,” Brienne told her. 

“It’s always good to start things early,” Melisandre assured her. “Why don’t I help you check-in first. Robin will take care of your bags.”

“So we’re going to have an orientation first, I take it?” Jaime asked as they followed her. Brienne reached for his hand and he smiled. He often initiated physical contact with them so it was nice when she did. He caught her hand in both of his and kissed it as they walked.

“Yes. We will be discussing your test results and then what you may expect for the next few days,” Melisandre told him. 

“How important are the test results?” Brienne asked her.

“Very, but I make it a point not to limit the couple to what the tests say. I get to know the couple better during orientation so the therapy is tailored even more to what they need.” Melisande, who was walking ahead of them, paused to look at her, then at Jaime. “Though I have to admit it’s my first time to have a couple such as you.”

“Why is that?” Brienne asked at the same time Jaime frowned and said, “What do you mean?”

“Often, couples who seek our, shall we say, style of counselling, have a really troubled relationship. But your test results don’t show that. Of course, that’s just one area. There’s the orientation, and then the interview. Nothing to worry about.”

As Melisandre continued walking, Brienne tugged at Jaime’s hand. She was breathing rapidly. He kissed her hand again. “I know,” he told her.

“Oh Gods, Jaime, I’m so sorry I didn’t take the test seriously,” she whispered as they continued following Melisandre.

“I’ll double that,” he told her grimly. 

“She doesn’t have an accurate picture of us.”

“Indeed she doesn’t. But remember what she said, it’s not just the test. There’s still the orientation and the interview. I wouldn’t worry so much about making a nice dot picture of your tits instead.”

_“You fucking didn’t.”_

He grinned. “I fucking did. Didn’t you make a big picture of my penis?”

“ _Of course not._ I don’t have your dirty mind. I made a lion.”

He nodded proudly. “You are a Lannister, indeed. I’ll take it.”

“And nice thing about dots comprising my tits, husband.”

“It was a visual ode to your freckles.” 

Brienne huffed under her breath. Her cheeks were the color of succulent strawberries. 

Jaime asked, sighing, “Thinking I’m impossible again?”

“No,” she said sullenly. “I’m thinking how I’m able to stand you and actually find your, uh, perversions, so fucking charming despite, you know, being inappropriate.”

He shrugged, but his eyes twinkled. “What’s so perverted about dot pictures and freckles? You’re the one with the dirty mind, wife. The gods help me, but I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Admit it. They're so tooth-rottingly sweet you want to punch them in the face. ARGH.


	5. The Lannisters 101

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Melisandre observes the Lannisters during an interview. 
> 
> A Melisandre POV.

After assisting Jaime and Brienne Lannister register at the front desk of Moongate Leisure & Spa, Melisandre led them to her office. 

Her office was a small, square space that prized comfort over luxury, although there were discreet, expensive touches scattered around it. There were crystal snow globes, collected from various trips, a hand-carved oak desk, a collection of antique fountain pens, chairs and a sofa upholstered in white silk.  
Bay windows made her office look bigger, allowing her to rest her eyes by looking out at the clear blue lake or the forests beyond. She drew the blinds closed for privacy, not that Melisandre ever did anything in her office that required privacy. Work was work and never overlapped with the personal.

However, for the longest time, she had a way of either selecting the right people for each other, which led to a successful online dating company before the rise of swipe technology phased it out—and she got out just in time. It may be natural talent or skill, or maybe she was doing math she wasn’t aware of but Melisandre still wanted to do something in connection with relationships. Maybe if she could get couples together before, she could branch out into helping them stay together. Relationships took serious work. Not a lot of people realized that.

So she went back to school, got a degree in psychology and just continued where she left off. She was no M.D., hence why she never presented herself as a therapist or a doctor although people saw her as that. She couldn’t think of any other title except for the boring facilitator. Instigator sounded aggressive and she laughed at the idea of presenting herself an expert when all she’d done was simply tap into something that came natural to her and honed it. Her business was successful but she didn’t think she was an expert. It just happened that the stars aligned with what she enjoyed. 

Hence, Melisandre, Relationship Facilitator, established her business, specializing in couples retreats and therapy. Couples who wanted to rekindle the fire and romance found it in the nights spent at Moongate Leisure & Spa. Also couples who wanted to kill each other but that took more than a couple of nights in the mud bath. This was where Melisandre came in.

She smiled at the Lannisters as they took their seats on the silken sofa. She pulled a chair from her desk and sat before them.

As she provided them with a background of her practice and Moongate Leisure & Spa, she observed them and took mental notes. Jaime Lannister was easy to read—he was clearly in love with his wife, judging from how he always made a point to touch her or keep close personal contact. Melisandre wondered when would a man look at her like he did with his wife. It was an open, admiring gaze, soft yet also heated. Of note too were his classic, good looks—the short, blond hair styled in a messy bedhead look, emerald green eyes, elegant nose, high cheekbones, sculpted slim lips and a sharp jawline. Jaime Lannister was handsome and he knew it, but his arrogance, Melisandre could tell, didn’t just come from that. Nor did it come from his being a Lannister. It was something deeper and stronger. Perhaps, she thought, what she read as arrogance and overconfidence was a strong sense of himself. 

And that was what Brienne Lannister responded to.

Unlike her husband, she was difficult to read. As blessed as Jaime was with good looks so was Brienne ins lacking them. Anyone who saw them would wonder right away what a god-like man ever saw in a woman that ugly, or that he was gay and hiding it in the worse way by having a beard who looked more like a man than he did. 

Her one beauty was her eyes. Melisandre couldn’t tear her gaze away from them. Brienne Lannister was shy—that was easy to tell. She was taller than her husband but walked with hunched shoulders but when Jaime glanced at her, even just touched her lightly, she straightened up, her blue eyes bright and animated. She seemed to have been born to blush heavily, as proven when Jaime not only answered in the affirmative when asked about their sex life, but also added theirs was _a lot more active_ than most couples. 

It was easy to be overwhelmed by a man such as Jaime Lannister, and if you were the sort to hang back and let him take center stage, he will. Despite being shy, Brienne knew how to take the stage, though she did it with some second-guessing but ultimately, surged forward. She spoke with some intensity, she was clearly the serious one between them. When she had your attention, you became her sole focus, her eyes never left your face. And it wasn’t that Jaime let her have the limelight, he just knew to step back because it was his wife’s turn. She must be heard because she had something to say.

Melisandre also noted the affection between them. Brienne was more discreet, content to have her hand on his knee, smile at him gently every now and then. Jaime was more demonstrative. Melisandre couldn’t see it but he clearly had his arm around her waist, at the back, and had slipped a hand under her shirt to caress her skin—Brienne was turning redder and redder. His other hand would touch her hand on his knee, tuck a stubborn lock of her limp yet messy straw-blonde hair behind an ear, touch her shoulder. He reminded Melisandre of a cat who rubbed against your legs. 

Melisandre could hardly keep the smile on her face when they spoke about each other. Brienne was well aware of her husband’s affluent background. This mattered little to her though she recognized it played a part in being the man he was. But there was no mistaking the pride in her voice when she spoke about his work, his owning an advertising agency, the projects he was currently working on and would like to work on. She praised him from his diaper-changing skills on two babies at the same time to his concept of Blackfyre, a luxury car brand. “It’s the first TV commercial he’s ever done,” she said, exchanging a tender look with Jaime. 

Jaime was wowed by his wife. He talked about her graduate theses, gave an overview of the chapters of her dissertation. He was in awe that somebody was this brilliant, that his wife was the most brilliant person he knew. He spoke about the scholarly articles she had published, that she was peer-reviewed and her classes in her department had the highest number of students. “I told you before and I’m telling you again,” he said to Brienne, his smile getting bigger as she blushed and looked away. “They’ll make you chair of the department in less than ten years. I’m betting in six years you will be. You’re the hardest worker I know.”

Communication, check. High regard for each other, check. Commitment, check. Sex life, check. From the interview, the couple everyone in a relationship aspired to be. So Melisandre asked the million-dragon question.

“What are you doing? Why are you here?”

The Lannisters looked at each other. Brienne took a deep breath and spoke.

“A few months ago, we got into this horrible fight. Things were said. . .a lot of painful things were said. I’d rather not repeat them, if it’s okay.”  
Melisandre nodded, prompting her silently to continue.

“We’ve talked about what happened. I think though we’ve apologized sincerely, and proven over and over again since just how important and how we respect each other very much, we’re worried that a fight like it might happen again. Maybe worse. We’re worried we’ll stop talking. There’s a lot we’re worrying about.” 

Brienne looked at Jaime. A silent signal passed between them and he spoke next.

“There are still things going on. . .Wife, do you think it would help if we bring some specificity?”

Brienne looked at Melisandre.

“It would help,” Melisandre admitted.

“For example. The children thing. I would like another, more. Brienne too. But she’s told me, and I support her, I want to make it clear, _I support her,_ that if she were to get pregnant right now she’s not going to be as happy. She’s not even sure if she’s going to be happy. That hurt but at the same time, I love her more for being so honest and brave with me. It’s not the easiest thing to say. And I refuse to be part of anything that forces her to do things she's not sure about. ”

“No, it’s not the easiest thing to tell anyone, especially somebody you're married to. ” Melisandre agreed when he paused and looked at Brienne. Brienne just nodded and squeezed his hand.

“When we fought. . .I said things to her. Things you do not ever say to a woman you love and respect. And she couldn’t tell me at first why she couldn’t have sex because she was worried about being pregnant—“

“I was late,” Brienne told Melisandre, flushing.

“—and didn’t know then how to tell me about her. . .hesitation to have another so soon.”

“I couldn’t let him touch me,” Brienne said as Jaime hung his head, but he kept his hand in hers. He looked at her when she continued. “I was so mad I wanted him to hurt the way he’d hurt me.”

It was clearly a painful memory for Jaime because he looked to have gone away inside with what Brienne said.

“We don’t ever want to be in that position again. That’s why we’re here.” Jaime said, nodding. 

“We’re Lannisters and we don’t back down. We’re lions, after all.”

Brienne’s voice was soft but Jaime and Melisandre heard her clearly. Jaime took his wife’s hand to his lips. 

“What my wife is saying,” Jaime clarified, “is whatever it is we’ll have to do to remain stronger and together for the rest of our lives is we can take anything you dish out. We will take it.” 

“Hear us roar,” Brienne added.

“Hear us roar,” Jaime agreed.

Highly unusual couple, Melisandre thought, scribbling her final notes. Of course couples who loved each other greatly fought to be together but Jaime and Brienne Lannister gave the impression that they’d go to war and slit the throats of everyone who got in the way of their being together. It wasn’t obsessive, she amended. It was. . .well, fuck, it was damn commitment. They were enamoured of each other yet not so that they didn’t see what flaws the other had. No, not obsessive at all. Acceptance, that’s what it was. Acceptance and celebrating the sum of what made the other. They pushed and pulled at each other.   
_How is it even possible this kind of relationship exists?_ She wondered. It was unreal. 

“We’re not being arrogant or cocky, just so you know, Melisandre,” Brienne said, grimacing.

“She’s not, I am.” Jaime chuckled.

Brienne shot him a look and he looked at the ceiling. Something told Melisandre this was an old routine of theirs. Jaime intentionally acting like a pompous, childish ass to rile up Brienne. 

“No, I don’t think you’re being impossible. You can be a little more serious.”

“I am. You can be a little less serious.”

“Love really is blind,” Brienne said to Melisandre.

Jaime affected a nonchalant shrug. “Love is all you need.”

“What’s this you told me before to explain why I’m like this—ah, I have it.” Brienne snapped her fingers, displaying a rare moment of mirth. “We don’t get to choose who we love.”

“Hence, the things we do for love,” Jaime added.

Brienne rolled her eyes. “There are no men like him. Only him.”

“And my name’s Jaime.”

He flashed a thumb’s up sign.

“Seven Hells, do you see whom I’m married to?” But the smile on Brienne’s face almost made her look pretty. This was Melisandre's first glimpse of the extent of her love for her husband. It was _boundless._ “But, really, Melisandre. We’re here to work on our marriage. We want to be better for each other. Just because we promised we won’t be disappointed with the other doesn’t mean we just sit on our asses and don’t try to better, right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Towards the end, Jaime and Brienne pull off this comedy duo act. I think, for now, grand pronouncements about love could be shelved, at least for a few more chapters. I thought they could poke fun at these romantic things they say to each other (and make us squeal like twelve-year-olds), which shows that though they are serious about getting help, they do make it a point to laugh with each other.


	6. Breaking the Rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selwyn and Tywin read the twins' meal for the week and decide to tweak it.

Selwyn Tarth and Tywin Lannister have been left to take care of Ty and Drew before, but by themselves. When Jaime and Brienne told them about the trip they would be taking to the Riverlands, both grandfathers quickly volunteered. The couple leaned more toward Selwyn, he’d had more contact with the twins by himself rather than Tywin, who took care of them with Sansa. 

Tywin liked to be first in everything. Just as how he drummed into the heads of the presidents of the companies under Lannister Conglomerate, so did he constantly remind himself in his daily life that he had to be first. First in the office. First on the table. Children who placed first in class. First choice. It rankled that his son sided with his wife on who would be in charge of the twins while they were gone. To think he was in already Westeros and Selwyn was coming from Tarth.

Drew and Ty were well-behaved yet active boys, curious smiling little things. Their eyes were their Brienne’s, bright, big, blue shining pools. Tywin noticed right away how plain his goddaughter was, in spite of her eyes yet even he couldn’t help but be fascinated with how blue they were. The rest of the twins were all Jaime, down to the dimples and even their giggles. Jaime had always been jolly, Tywin remembered, often smiling and shrieking with laughter. The boys’ proper behaviour had to be Brienne’s—Tywin didn’t have one child that came even close to such. 

So even if it was a little worrying that his grandsons were obsessed with loosening the laces of shoes and putting them in their mouths, or bending right toward the shoe and licking it, the moment they were told, “No” or “Stop” they obeyed. For a full ten seconds, staring up at the reprimanding adult with eyes wide with challenge before doing exactly what they were told not to do. That, unfortunately, was signature Jaime, Tywin thought as he picked up Drew from the floor and into his arms. He frowned when he saw Selwyn removing his boots and letting Ty play with them. The retired four-star general of the Westerosi army sat on the floor with the boy.

“Those things are definitely not clean,” Tywin told Selwyn. “He’s going to get sick.”

“Children who are too protected and kept too clean are the ones who get sick,” Selwyn said, grinning at Ty licking the end of a shoelace. “They should be a little dirty. Makes them stronger.”

Tywin huffed and lifted Drew higher to his chest. “Careless, is how I see it.”

Selwyn waved it away. “Oh, what do you know, Tywin. Nannies raised your children.”

“And your oddball brothers raised your daughter.” 

“Which helped her turn out just fine,” Selwyn picked up Ty and, in his muscled arms, started lifting baby up and down. “You coddle your children, Tywin. And now you’re coddling my grandsons.”

“Well, someone has to, if you’re just going to let them run about collecting germs.”

“Seven Hells, Tywin,” Selwyn said, shaking his head but not losing a beat with his game of lifting the laughing Ty up and down. “I know you Lannisters shit gold but I don’t think any of your children do that without your permission.”

“You forget your daughter’s a Lannister too.”

“Not by blood. So she won’t be shitting gold.” Selywn grinned. “And if she does, she certainly doesn’t need your permission.”  
Tywin flushed. Loathed as he was to admit it, he ran two speeds when it came to caring for his children: coddling and strangling them. He made sure the nannies dressed them only in the most pristine clothes, made sure they didn’t interact with children who had questionable hygiene practices and he didn’t let them go to just any birthday party or sleepover. It had to be a child from the right family, for one. Putting his children in Vale Prep ensured they made friends only from a highly select group. 

That had been the objective with putting them in Vale Prep, so they interacted only with the right people. The right people gave the right opportunity. But it backfired—Tyrion never made friends, not close ones, Cersei lasted a year before she insisted to be moved to a regular school because the academic demands were too high and it left her little time to actually do any interacting. Jaime begged to be transferred out too but being captain of the soccer team and good friends with Prince Oberyn Martell, Tywin declined his request. Royalty were the sort of people he wanted his children to mingle with. He didn’t foresee that the Viper, a nickname that Oberyn also went by, would abdicate ten years later for a. . .common model.

He wouldn’t have approved if Brienne if not for her background. Daughter of a respected and revered four-star general, niece of a successful visual artist, the other a professor of literature and the one operated a motorbike rental shop. She also came from an old family, not rich, but one who could trace their history as far back as the Andal Invasion. On her own, she was a much-feared volleyball player in college before a knee injury ended her career. It pleased Tywin that she was one of the rising stars in her department at King’s Landing University-Westeros—published, peer-reviewed and respected. 

Of course, she clearly loved Jaime, got along well with his other children, and, from that pregnancy debacle a few months ago, someone everyone looked up to. That seemed to be their collective instinct when a problem arose: run to Brienne. Then there was also how she’d given Jaime sons, twins, at that, bringing more Lannisters into the world. 

With Drew still in his arms, Tywin went to the kitchen. It was getting dark, which meant the twins were to have dinner and be put to bed soon. Jaime said that the twins’ meals were listed on a schedule tacked on the fridge, and were already packaged or just had to be put in the microwave. Tywin squinted at the list, then, balancing Drew in one arm, reached for his glasses from his shirt pocket.

Monday  
Breakfast: a bowl of fresh fruit and scrambled eggs  
Morning snack: fruit cup/fruit Jell-O  
Lunch: beef broth, make sure to cube the meat and the vegetables  
Afternoon snack: more fruit  
Dinner: steamed vegetables with cubed chicken  
Tuesday  
Breakfast: chocolate chip pancakes with a side of fruit  
Morning snack: fruit cup/fruit Jell-O  
Lunch: soft chicken tacos  
Snack: more fruit  
Dinner: fish cakes with a side of vegetables  
Wednesday  
Breakfast: miniature blueberry muffins  
Morning snack: peanut butter and banana sandwiches  
Lunch: soft, chicken kebabs with asparagus  
Snack: more fruit, or they can ice cream if they’re out of the house  
Dinner: turkey sliders with a side of vegetables  
Thursday  
Breakfast: oatmeal with fresh fruit (Ty prefers raspberries and blueberries, Drew likes to have it with banana and honey)  
Morning snack: yogurt, strawberry for Drew, plain for Ty with fresh raspberries  
Lunch: fish fingers with steamed vegetables and mashed potato  
Afternoon snack: banana hazelnut smoothie with SOME chocolate. The twins hate nuts.  
Dinner: vegetable lasagna  
Friday  
Breakfast: cinnamon French toast with fruit on the side, apples or raspberries  
Morning snack: honey, almond butter and banana sandwich  
Lunch: fresh pasta, either tomato sauce or cream with salmon bits  
Afternoon snack: fresh fruit or leftover sandwiches  
Dinner: roast chicken with vegetables  
*Simply mix up the meals for until when we return  
*A glass of warm milk before bedtime  
*Ty likes grapefruit juice. Drew orange juice.

Selwyn, who had been reading over Tywin’s shoulder, frowned. “This is what they feed the children? It’s so. . .healthy.”

“It sounds just about right,” Tywin disagreed. “This is clearly Brienne’s work. Jaime would feed candies all day if he could.”

“Only one day in the week where they could have chocolate! The rest is for fruit and vegetables and what toddler eats salmon?”

“Salmon is a perfectly healthy fish. I notice they don’t have a lot of fried food, which would save them from being obese later in life. I believe it a good idea that as early as now, they’re being raised as healthy eaters.”

“Healthy eaters! This is no way for children to eat!” Selwyn exclaimed. Ty mewled in approval and his grandfather nodded. “See? Ty agrees with me. This kid must be in hell eating vegetables and fruit all the time.”

“They have burgers! They’re not being made to eat something as complicated as bouillabaisse or the Seven forbid, ortolans!”

“What’re ortolans? Another fancy dish only you rich people eat?”

Tywin ignored the 'rich' bit. “Ortolan is a bird. Their eyes are plucked out. It’s good. Their bones are so soft you can eat them. With poultry taking the lead over other meats in the menu, I am surprised there’s nothing like this.”

“Bones you can eat. Well, Jaime and Brienne haven’t gone too far off yet. I still can’t believe they’re this strict with the children’s diet,” Selwyn said, shaking his head disbelievingly. “No Pop Tarts. No chocolate chip cookies. No French fries. No mayonnaise in sandwiches. No candy. What the hell do they eat when they go out?”

“I believe Jaime mentioned they pre-pack snacks. It’s healthier and safer.”

“Still! Children should be having fun with food. Salmon, my foot. And oatmeal!” Selwyn was affronted personified. “I don’t even eat oatmeal, for crying out loud.”

“Well, what do you want us to do? Set them loose in a candy store? Have them swim in a chocolate fountain?” Tywin remarked drily.  
“No. They’re going to eat food kids should be eating.” Selwyn was determined. “Oh come on, Tywin, these kids probably have not even had a milkshake. A fucking milkshake!” He nodded at Drew and Ty. “That’s it, boys. We’re going out for burgers, milkshakes and the greasiest fries! And if we have to buy every chocolate bar, then by the Seven, we will. I won’t allow my grandchildren to continue being deprived this way. Will you?”

Tywin hated to be challenged. He thought the meal plan just proper. Too often parents were too lazy to give their children a proper meal and feed them pre-packaged garbage from the supermarket. But he’d been cooped up in the small apartment the whole day. He needed to feel the air. 

“Of course not,” Tywin declared. He grinned at Drew and tweaked Ty on the nose. “Let’s go. And I’m buying!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Count on these two to feed their grandsons bad, delicious things. 
> 
> I'm not kidding about the ortolans. The birds' eyes are plucked out and they're served deep-fried--that's one way they're cooked, I think. I think this dish has been banned because of the cruelty behind its preparation.


	7. No Rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Brienne initiates and Jaime wants them to make much of use of the bed that does not include sleeping.

When Brienne emerged from the bathroom after brushing her teeth, she expected to find Jaime sprawled on the high, richly-upholstered king-sized bed. The sight that greeted her was that of her husband going through the new information packet Melisandre provided them with, and making notations on its margins with a pen. He sat on the foot of the bed.

Brienne paused at the door of the bathroom, leaning against the doorframe. She crossed her left ankle over the right and watched her dear husband pore over the details. 

His hair was shorter now, close to the head with short, crisp bangs. He had shaved off the beard he grew during the cold months of winter and fall. She missed it—not the burn it left on tender spots on her skin but how it scraped on her chin when they kissed or when it tickled her when he pressed his lips to her throat. Bearded or not, scraggly-haired or cleanly-trimmed, Jaime was a handsome man—he could be a hundred and twenty and still be god-like. 

He was wearing one of her old t-shirts—their similar sizes meant they shared a lot of each other’s clothes—a faded jersey from her volleyball days and a frayed, drawstring pair of shorts. She wasn’t sure if it was hers. It didn’t matter. Her husband looked absolutely delicious in her ratty clothes. Now that he was reading he was hazardous to her health.

“What other questions might we have?” she asked him, pushing herself away from the door and going to her side on the bed. She sat down and pulled out a bottle of lotion from the nightstand. She pressed a small amount of the emollient toward her palms before rubbing them together.

“I don’t exactly relish being in a helicopter and dropped off in the middle of a forest,” Jaime told her, flipping a page. 

“Husband, you seem to have forgotten I’ll be with you.”

He turned to look at her, grinning. “You better be.”

“It’s an area with just small animals. Not even a boar. And should a snake sneak into our tent—“

“Fuck the Seven, I forgot about snakes,” Jaime groaned, running a finger down the text of the packet to find any advisory about the dreaded crawlers.

“There are ways to lessen the chances of them interrupting our sleep. Don’t worry, I’ll teach you.”

Brienne slid her legs under the sheets and leaned back against the pillows. She frowned as Jaime continued reading. Usually, it was he waiting for her to stop reading. But when ten minutes passed and not only did his eyes remain on his reading but a protesting huff of air or a groan drifted out of his lips, she decided to take action. He had been all handsy in the car earlier, she justified, and did not think to resume. It was, well, unfair. And to leave her hanging for so long? She had to do something.

It was rare when she initiated. She would never get used to how Jaime could look at her with great, urgent, needful, smouldering want, just as she would never be able to completely shake off her early insecurities about her body. The assurance of his love was the only thing that drove her to go on her knees and slowly make her way to him. 

Her face was warm. On her cheeks bright, pink spots that would cross over to tomato red soon. But she put her arms around his shoulders from behind. Pressed sucking little kisses at the backs of his ears, his nape. 

“You’re distracting me,” Jaime complained but she could tell he was pleased with what she was doing. “I’m reading this to keep you alive, wife.”

“What a chivalrous man,” Brienne whispered, her hands delving under his shirt. Warm skin and firm muscles welcomed her. She hummed against his nape as she caressed his stomach. “And _so_ strong.”

“Strong enough,” he told her, closing his eyes as she took the tip of his earlobe between her lips and sucked. “Fuck, Brienne. _Fuck._ ”

“Stronger,” she filled his ear with her hot whisper. Jaime’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as he fell back against her chest. She nuzzled his cheek. He smelled of soap and that delectable, personal scent that was solely his. She grinned to herself when the packet slid down the floor.

Jaime turned to her, put a hand at the back of her head and pulled her down for a deep kiss that was all mouth and tongue and tasting and eating. She moaned into his mouth and he tightened his grip on the back of her head. Meanwhile, she pushed her hand under the waistband of his shorts.

He ripped his mouth away from her. He was flushed and sweat faintly dotted his forehead as he watched her hand moving under his shorts, felt what her rough, calloused palm was doing to him. The hand that had gripped her head fell to her thigh and gripped it in a way that would leave bruises. Breathing fast, he groaned, “Fuck, Brienne. _Gods.”_

Giving pleasure indeed was the greatest pleasure, as Brienne had come to learn with Jaime. The way he reacted to her made it seem as if she were a skilled courtesan rather than a red-faced woman in her thirties whose caresses were still shy in spite of being schooled by the very man in her arms. Despite being naked before him and having his children. Even when she had fallen apart in his arms countless times.

_“You’re killing me, Brienne.”_

“Oh, no, husband. I mean to keep you alive.”

His cock was velvet over hot steel. She circled her thumb around the tip, feeling the bead of moisture at the slit and spreading it. Jaime bit his lip, as if to swallow a cry. Then he suddenly cupped her face in his hand and pressed his mouth hard to her, so suddenly, his jaw knocked against hers. She gasped when his hand suddenly joined hers in his shorts, around his cock.

Together, they squeezed and rubbed him. 

Frustrated at the confined space of his shorts, Jaime kicked them off, and was left wearing only her old t-shirt. He whispered, pleaded her name when she suddenly released his cock. Bright green eyes followed Brienne as she slid down from the bed and onto her knees. 

_“Fuck,”_ Jaime groaned as she pushed his legs open. 

His cock stood straight and hard toward his stomach from the thick tangle of dark blond curls. Brienne had very little experience with men but she knew that Jaime’s cock was the most beautiful she had seen, and it wasn’t merely because he was her husband. It was long, elegant, pink, tipped with a fat, helmet head that had her opening her mouth wide and wider as she took him deep in her throat.

She released him with a loud, popping sound, just long enough to say _“I want you,”_ before she continued, her eyes burning blue and as if lit by all the stars in the sky.

Jaime pushed his fingers through her hair before he seized her face between his huge hands. “I need you.”

She rubbed his thighs, his strong thighs thick with curling, golden hair. Her swollen lips opened wide as she flicked at the wet tip of his cock. “Tell me what you want.” 

Her warm breath bathed him, ruffling the curls.

_“Kiss me.”_

His hips snapped toward her when she pressed a chaste kiss at the helmet tip.

“No,” his voice was guttural. He yanked at her hair, tipping her chin up. “Here.” 

“Jaime,” she whispered as she stretched up. She pressed a soft, seeking kiss on his lips. No tongue, just light, tender kissing in spite of how tightly he held her.. Their kiss was not the sensual meeting of lips. As she grazed her teeth against his inner top lip, he licked the corner of her mouth. She continued rubbing him between her palms. He was so warm. So hard. _So wonderful._

Jaime, his hands clamped so tightly around her head they blocked out all sounds except for their pitched breathing, jerked towards her with faster, sharper frequency as his release approached. Brienne reached under, gave his balls a little pull just the way he liked it when she dropped her hands.

And stopped. 

“Seven Hells,” Jaime gasped. His eyes were dark, almost black. She knew just where to leave him. “What did you do that for?”

“I need to catch up,” Brienne said as she stood before him, blushing, panting and still dressed. His head fell toward her stomach, his breath warm and fast. She leaned against him too, quite heavily, when his arms banded around the back of her thighs before he sat back and glared at her in a way that locked the air in her throat and would have had her shrinking back in fear if not for what this almost-angry expression on his face meant.

“About damn time,” Jaime growled, yanking her shorts down her incredible, long legs as she pulled off her t-shirt. She almost fell on her ass when he grabbed her leg, pulled it open and tucked his hand under the bend of her knee. There she was, he thought, licking his lips at the sight of her cunt. Thick, blond bush dark with her hunger. _Pink, oh so very pink,_ like the sweetest dessert. His favorite dessert. 

He breathed deeply. Vanilla and Brienne. Always potent. Always so fucking good.

The fingers of his other hand squeezed her firm ass as he buried his mouth in her cunt. 

His tongue plunged between the moist folds, licking the right lip, then the left before thrusting against her swelling clitoris. He draped her leg over his shoulder, still keeping her wide open while his hand drifted from her backside to her cunt, thumbing one lip open. Brienne’s nails dug in his shoulders as her body bowed upward, seeking more of his mouth, _his hand._

“Always so wet,” he teased her, pushing two fingers in her cunt. “Doesn’t it take your panties forever to dry?”

“Not now, Jaime,” she wailed as he fucked her with his fingers.

He grinned, the asshole. “Leave your underwear behind.”

“No,” she gasped as he curled his fingers hard. _“Gods.”_

“No. _Jaime.”_ He pretended annoyance.

_“Please, Jaime._ I need to come,” she begged. “Make me come. _Oh!_ Jaime!”

As soon as she begged him, he sucked hard on her clitoris and twirled his fingers deep in her cunt. White light flashed before Brienne’s eyes as she bucked against him, fucking his face. She was still shaking as he licked her clean, his hands and his knees around one leg all that kept her upright. 

He pulled her off her feet, to his arms and onto the bed, kicking away at the shorts hanging around her ankle as if they burned. They were a tangle of arms and legs as she helped him with his shirt. He had grabbed it at the neck at the same time she reached for its edge. They laughed as it was removed from him. At last, they wore only skin. his, golden and warm, hers moonlight and freckled, they fell on the bed.  
Jaime flipped her on her back and captured her mouth again, this time kissing her roughly, possessively. Every inch his hands touched was a sensual brand. She gasped, turning her head away as he rubbed his knuckles on her tight nipples, one hand falling on her waist. When he rubbed himself against her thigh, she swiftly turned back to him and with her large hands, brought his head down for a kiss.

“I love you, I love you,” he told her as his lips paid homage to her jaw, down the side of her neck. “I love you,” he repeated, kissing her throat. “Love you,” as he went to her shoulder next.

It may be pleasantly warm in the room, sweat was at her back, but violent shudders seized Brienne’s body. “Jaime,” she cried out, her voice raw and broken as he licked round and round a pink nipple. Her leg bent and he grabbed it, hooking it tight around his lean hip. His cock pushed against the crease between her thigh and cunt.

“Tell me what you want,” and he was begging her as he mouthed her other nipple. He wrapped his other hand around her other leg and pressed himself fully between them.

“We should stop.”

He froze mid-lick. Brienne had to bite her lip hard to keep from grinning as he pushed himself up and stared at her in disbelief. Mussed blonde hair. Smouldering eyes. Lips that looked to red. Hugely aroused. He remained between her legs.

_“What?”_ The veins in his throat stood out as he struggled from shouting.

“Don’t you think that rather than fucking we should be sleeping? It’s our last night on a bed, husband.”

“It’s precisely because we won’t have a bed under us for one week why we should be fucking instead of sleeping,” he snapped. His sweat dropped on her throat, her stomach. “What’s wrong with you, wife?”

And he curved his hands under her knees and spread her legs wide open. Brienne didn’t know what did it—that look of betrayal on his face mixed with disbelief, shock and actual, physical pain—but she couldn’t keep it in anymore. She snorted with laughter, blushing deeper and harder.

Jaime’s look of confusion sent her shaking violently with more laughter, her arms clutched at her sides, before he realized she’d just pulled a fast one on him. 

“You _are_ impossible, Brienne,” he groaned. Then he took his cock in his hand, aimed it at her pink entrance and pushed in.

His grin was smug and feral as Brienne’s laughter turned into a squeal.

“We—“he grunted, lunging deep into _oh, so sweet, tight cunt_ —“won’t—“ _thrust_ “—be sleeping—“ _thrust_ \--"no"- _thrust_ —“rest."

_“Jaime,”_ Brienne moaned as he pushed her legs higher up in his arms so he was kneeling between them. Her hands went to her breasts. Small as they were, they bounced hard from rough, frantic thrusts against each other. Sweat shone between them. She pinched her nipples and Jaime’s eyes almost crossed, watching her. In the same instant, her cunt gripped him and he swore. _She was strangling him._

“Yield,” he managed to say, breathlessly.

Her eyes were entirely black now. She shook her head, still pinching her nipples. “Make me,” she gasped.

Jaime’s cock grew harder at the challenge. She whimpered, he breathed sharply.

“I’m going to make you scream,” he vowed just before he started to ram his cock into her in hard, rapid thrusts. This time he had to hold her down, trapping her wrists under his arms else they would fall from the bed. 

Brienne was pink from forehead to toes. Jaime’s breath was in her mouth as was hers in his. He swallowed her gasps as he kissed her, open, hungry, determined to see through his promise. surging hard against her body. His chest hair scraped at her sensitive nipples. His stomach pressed into the hollows of hers between the defined muscles. His hipbones dugs against her hipbones. She crossed her ankles behind his buttocks and pressed, pushing him deeper into her.

She had been wet and aching from the moment she was finished with her shower, and it got worse watching him read, when she took pleasure in teasing him. So when his hand reached down, found her clitoris and rubbed it in merciless, hard circles, she couldn’t stop it, couldn’t stop her body surrendering to pleasure with wanton abandon. 

She flattened her feet on the bed, her eyes gleaming sapphires as she rode through the waves of her orgasm, giving Jaime just a touch of what he had been doing to her and how she was going to bring it to him. He grinned, as if hearing her thoughts before his face tightened into that tell-tale grimace of his own release. 

“Fuck me, Jaime!” Brienne cried out, tightening her thighs and squeezing at his cock from deep inside. _“Oh gods, please, please fuck me!”_

“As you wish, wife,” he said harshly, driving into her as if to bury her in the mattress. His strokes were brutal and just how she liked, exactly how they liked it. “I live only to fuck you.”

Then he groaned, her name spilling from his lips at the same moment he shot in her in thick, heavy streams. “Jaime,” she whispered as her cunt continued squeezing his cock dry. 

She sagged on the bed, arms and legs falling limply on the sides. He collapsed against her, his hard pants heavy gusts in her ear. They wore each other’s sweat. The air was thick with it and the musk of their sex.

His neck was pressed to her reddening cheek. She had caught the smell. He no doubt did too.

“No rest tonight, Brienne,” he whispered, propping himself up on his hands and looking down at her. His cock was beginning to soften but he remained inside her. He rolled his hips and she felt him twitch. “Beds are almost never for sleeping for us. We’ve fucked more times in bed than we did any resting.”

She shook her head, weakly. But her eyes were soft. “You don’t really mean that, do you?” She brushed at his blond hair. 

“Remind me again about the time I joked about not fucking you.” He told her, smiling. But concerned, he asked, “Unless you’re tired.”

“Just give me an hour.”

He shook his head. “That won’t do.”

“Of course not an hour,” she said, pulling him down for a kiss. “Can’t you tell when I’m joking?”

They made love again, coming together slowly, the pleasure drawn out to the point of pain. And again. 

Jaime, loose-limbed and fighting to keep his eyes open, struggled to pull the comforter over them, complaining about being old, that if he were younger, he would fuck her for days. 

Brienne turned in his arms, kissing him on the chest, the throat, his jawline. Jaime pulled her leg over his hip and pressed himself against her still-wet cunt.

“You don’t need days to fuck me into exhaustion, husband,” she told him, nibbling at his jawline. Her voice was soft because her throat felt dry and raw from being. . so responsive. “And don’t you think it’s a miracle security hasn’t beaten at our door yet from all my screaming?”

Despite the boldness of her speech, she was the color of raspberries.

He smiled. “You do know how to prop me up, wife.”

She shook her head. “No. I just love you.”

He angled her chin toward him. They kissed, drinking from each other’s warm, swollen lips. She tucked herself between his neck and shoulder and put an arm around his chest. 

As his eyes fluttered closed, she whispered, “I do love you, Jaime Lannister.”

“Don’t you forget,” he said, tightening his hold on her. He kissed her forehead. 

After a few seconds, she said sleepily, “Maybe we should go at it again. While we still have a nice bed and all.”

Jaime yawned and put his hand on her waist. “Okay. Count down to five, four, three. . .”

He didn’t finish. Nor did she nudge him. They were fast asleep.


	8. The Consequences of Chocolate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drew and Ty get sick from too much candy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never been around a kid who got sick from too much candy so if there are things in this chapter that are unrealistic, then just roll with it. It's fiction, not a manual.
> 
> I guess Osha's poetry book didn't pan out. Remember? She was one of the applicants to be the twins' nanny.

Ten-thirty p.m. At this time in the Lannister apartment, Jaime and Brienne would either be in the living room talking quietly, or watching TV, or she’d be at her desk by the window, typing on her laptop, frowning, and he on his laptop by the dining table, clicking on different sections of an image, his lower lip caught between his teeth. 

And Drew and Ty would be fast asleep.

Tywin swore as Ty screamed his lungs out. “Fucking Seven Hells, Tarth, brilliant idea to feed them chocolate!”

Selwyn and Tywin had taken the boys to Maester Candy, a shop that was chockfull of every kind of candy. The explosion of colors and sugary smell had been enticing to both the children and their accompanying adults. Selwyn had eagerly scooped up chocolate balls, lollies whirled in vibrant colors, sugared, stretchy bits that stuck on fingers and teeth. He put everything the twins pointed at in the basket. Tywin himself couldn’t resist dipping a marshmallow in the shop’s huge chocolate fountain.

The proprietor of the shop, an old, nearly-wizened man named Luwin, had been delighted with Drew and Ty. Even his assistant Osha, a grim-faced woman with dark hair and wide eyes, had broken into a smile as Drew and Ty shrieked at the free candy they were given. Hodor, big bear of a man who was as wide as the doorway, kept returning to them with bowls of free samples.

They stayed for less than an hour, walking away with bags of candy to take home. The twins were still calm then, licking their fingers and beaming up at their grandfathers. Selwyn, proud of himself, said, “Now that was some dinner, eh, boys?”

“That appeared to have gone well,” Tywin agreed.

Twenty minutes after saying it, the twins launched a surprise assault on their grandfathers’ ears  
.  
And almost four hours later, they were still unstoppable.

It began with Ty. Bright-eyed like his mother and with a teasing gleam in them much like his father’s, he was all smiles as Selwyn set him down on the floor. Tywin lowered Drew and the two boys held hands as they ran on their little legs around the apartment, squealing and laughing. 

There was nothing unusual about that. They were happy children.

But even happy children got tired.

The Lannister twins didn’t.

Until Drew made a retching sound and threw up all over the rug by the floor. Selwyn, tut-tut-ting, quickly found rags under the kitchen sink. Drew, sitting on his fat little butt on the floor, was red-faced and crying. In between cleaning, Selwyn made car noises, boat noises, animal sounds, whatever came to mind to stop him from crying. When he sang, Drew screamed.

“Mommy!”

Exactly two minutes since his brother did it, Ty threw up on Tywin’s handmade Italian loafers.

“Fuck, I waited almost a year for these shoes!” Tywin roared, quickly kicking them off and picking up Ty. Ty burst into tears as his grandfather’s outburst. “Oh, Seven Hells, dear boy, I’m sorry. Pops is sorry, you hear? I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” 

His apologies only made Ty howl louder, tears exploding from his eyes.

Since then, Selwyn and Tywin’s night centered on rushing the twins to the bathroom and begging them to stop crying. Every bathroom trip meant louder crying. And as soon as one twin got louder, so did the other try to match it—or beat it. Twice neighbors have knocked on the door, complaining. Twice Twyin Lannister silenced them simply by glowering. 

“We should take them to the hospital,” he said to Selwyn, rocking Ty in his arms. 

Drew was on the floor. He had demolished the partitions of the play pen and was now scattering his toys and throwing them wherever he wished. Selwyn sat next to him, trying to reach with his long arms the things the boy kept throwing farther and farther.

“Children throw up all the time,” Selwyn huffed, raising his arm just in time as Drew raised his own chubby arm to throw a giraffe. 

“Mommy want!” Drew declared, moving so quickly that Selwyn wasn’t able to block the stuffed giraffe that smashed at his midsection.

Selwyn coughed violently. “Fuck the Seven!” 

“Mommy!” Ty started to scream. “Mommy!”

“Mommy is not here,” Tywin said firmly. Ty looked at him, betrayal in his eyes before his face crumpled and a fresh bout of tears poured out of his swollen blues. 

“Don’t be angry at the child, Tywin,” Selwyn snapped. “Don’t take it out on my grandson. I know I’m responsible. Pick someone your own size, damn it.”

“Spoken like a man who’s bigger than everyone else,” Tywin retorted. He turned to Ty. “I’m sorry, Ty. Do you forgive Pops?”

Ty shrieked and slapped Tywin on the cheek.

Selwyn roared with laughter. “Definitely my grandson.”

But his victory was short because Drew started kicking him. He was wearing only socks but the speed and force of his kicks on Selwyn’s side was going to leave bruises. Selwyn pulled the boy up and Drew shouted, “Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!”

“The Seven be merciful,” Tywin groaned desperately as Ty started screaming again. “Oh gods, be merciful!’

“The only thing we can do is make sure they don’t get dehydrated,” Selwyn said, sighing loudly.

“Which means they’ll be going to the bathroom through the night or going through their diaper supply.” Tywin shook his head. “No. No. There must be something we can do!”

“We should put them in their cribs,” Selwyn suggested, moving his head left and right to avoid Drew’s fists. “Try again, at least.”  
“We can’t put them to bed without having bathed them.”

“We’ve changed them into clean clothes three times since we got home, cleaned them up each time. We’re going to make them sicker keeping their heads damp. Remember, Ty did not like the sound of the hair dryer.” 

Tywin sighed. “Fine. Let’s put them back in their cribs.”

The moment the grandfathers put the children in their respective sleep spaces, another warm broke out.

“Fuck the gods! If they’re not shooting out on one end they’re monsters!” Selwyn gasped, quickly raising the partitions of the cribs. Drew and Ty were on their feet and screaming, their faces red.

“I’m going to call someone,” Tywin said over the noise. He dug his phone out of his pocket.

“Don’t you dare call my daughter or your son!” Selwyn told him, panicking. He knew what would happen if Brienne found out he was the instigator.

“Of course not. I’m calling someone who knows how to handle them,” Twyin said haughtily, scrolling down the screen of his cellphone. Finding a name, he pressed it.

“Who are you calling?” Selwyn asked.

“Sansa Stark.”

“Their nanny?”

“Former nanny.”

They had to shout over the twins’ screaming. Tywin shook his head. “I’m not going to hear her if I stay here. You think you can handle two children, Tarth?”

“I’ve led armies and missions, I’ve ended dictators and warlords,” Selwyn growled. “I know what to do with toddlers.”

“So you say, Tarth, so you say,” Tywin said, letting himself out of the room and shutting the door behind him. He could still hear his grandsons but their shouts were slightly muffled now. 

Just as he was about to hang up, Sansa Stark answered.

“Mr. Lannister?” She asked. She sounded breathless.

“Sansa, it’s Tywin.”

“Yes. Sir. Hi. Um, what can I do for you?”

Tywin looked up the ceiling, praying to the gods that he will find an answer in Sansa Stark. Then he straightened his head. Speaking in clipped tones, he outlined to her what had happened and how the twins had reacted. He couldn’t see her but he could tell she was shaking her head with every explanation he gave.

“You and General Tarth know better than letting them loose in a candy store,” Sansa told him. 

“What? It was Tarth’s idea!” Tywin was too tired to care about the way she was speaking to him. As if a mother reprimanding a child.

“You didn’t have to go along with it. You could have spoken some sense into him or at least, made sure Ty and Drew didn’t eat too much candy! What were you thinking?”

“Miss Stark, if I want a bloody sermon, I’d go to the nearest sept. I called for you to help me. Now. Help me!”

“You don’t know how to ask for help, don’t you?” Sansa sighed loudly. “Are they still throwing up? Pooping?” 

“Just throwing up. Some pooping, but only twice. It’s the vomiting that’s more frequent.”

“Just keep them hydrated. When they can, see if they’ll take yogurt. Not flavoured yogurt, not with fruits, not yet. Make sure the yogurt had lactobacillus.”

“Lacto-what?”

“Live cultures.”

“I’m sorry, are you telling me I should give them yogurt that’s alive?” Tywin glared at the phone.

“No, Mr. Lannister,” said Sansa in a long-suffering voice. “Yogurt with live cultures. Lactobacillus. It always says so on the label. Not the flavoured kind, do you understand?”

“Fine. Yogurt with live cultures. Got it.” 

“And don’t hesitate to call me again if you need help. I would like to be updated.”

Tywin frowned. “Why aren’t you surprised that I’m with the twins? You haven’t asked where Jaime and Brienne are.”

“Uh, well, we still keep in touch. Brienne and I still talk. She mentioned something about going away. Look, there’s really nothing to else to do now but keep Ty and Drew hydrated and comfortable.  
”  
“Alright. Thank you.”

Tywin went to the fridge to check for yogurt. One flavoured, one plain. He knocked on the twins’ bedroom. Selwyn was kneeling before the cribs, trying to pacify Ty and Drew.

“They need yogurt. We don’t have enough.”

Then he left.

Selwyn groaned and looked at his grandsons. “I’m never giving you candy again. I swear it.”


	9. Yes To All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime manages to convince Brienne to give up one important item but not before she drives a hard bargain.

For the longest time, Jaime regarded sex as a means to an end. He liked it enough but saw it more as an inevitable finish after dinner with an attractive date, saw it as a means of finding relief. Sex for him was practical rather than something he actively sought or experienced any pleasure.

Until Brienne.

People always said there was nothing like the first time and Jaime quite agreed. He still remembered her high-pitched gasps when he took her for the first time against the kitchen counter in his old apartment, remembered that it was the first time he had wanted someone so much that when she exploded in his arms, he had hated it because it meant it was over. He never wanted it to end, he wanted for his world to be confined within his kitchen and the tall, red-faced blonde in his arms. She was the only woman he had sought and once he found her, knew his old life was over. No more aimless living. With Brienne came the beginning he didn’t know he had been waiting for.

Early in their relationship, she asked him if it was always going to be like this with them. He promised her always, and it would also be better. He hadn’t expected that each time would be better than the last. Sex with Brienne was both draining and reviving. Everything she did to him, most of them unthinkingly, only few deliberately, were havoc to Jaime’s system and he loved every single moment of it. 

He sniffed appreciatively at her subtle and sexy vanilla scent. His wife wore no perfume and she didn’t need to—every inch of her smelled heavenly. The sun was still faint outside the window of their room but in a few seconds, it would rise and completely take over the horizon. Yet he didn’t wake her up. Sex was always a good start to the day but so was simply holding the woman you loved in your arms.

So Jaime just held her, lightly pressing kisses on her nape, behind her ear. He ran a finger down the long, toned line of her arm. He licked at the freckles on her shoulder. He was hard as soon as he woke but Brienne was sleeping peacefully and he didn’t want to wake her up, not when he’d kept her up pretty late, he thought, grinning against her skin.

When the sun was up and its rays began to approach their room through the window, he gently roused her, whispering in her ear, kissing her on the side of her neck, her cheek. Brienne grunted and turned too quickly in his arms, narrowly missing hitting him on the head. Jaime swallowed as her eyelashes tickled his throat, her lips warm against his collarbone.

“We have to get dressed, Brienne,” he told her softly, pulling away the blanket that covered her. He brushed his knuckles down her back, the slight dip on her waist before resting his hand on a broad hip. 

“Five minutes,” she whispered, kissing him on the throat then tucking her head back to his shoulder.

He smiled. “Okay. Five minutes.” He was the early riser between them and she the one who lingered in bed.

Five minutes passed and he nudged her. This time, Brienne opened her eyes, still heavy-lidded but looking bluer in the sun. “Jaime,” she whispered, her lips stretching into a soft, crooked smile that made his heart flutter. They kissed and then she was pulling away. She took the blanket he had discarded and wrapped it around her body as she rose from the bed.

He lay back, watching appreciatively as the sun threw light on her heavily-freckled body. She had six of them on her right breast and seven on her left. By her hip, under all those freckles, was a birth mark the shape of a crescent moon. When Jaime’s eyes drifted back to her face, he saw that she was blushing and struggling to cover herself. He let her. He’d told her many times there was no sense in hiding from him—he’d seen and tasted every inch. Sometimes he convinced her to walk in their room just in her birthday suit but that was rare. Now that she was a mother, she’d told him, she had to be a lot more dignified. Or attempt to be.

“We should be ready in an hour,” Brienne said, covered now but still clutching the sheet to her chest. “We have just enough time for a breakfast and do some last-minute packing.”

“I laid out our clothes last night,” Jaime said, getting up from the bed and not bothering to cover himself. He was forty-five and looked a whole lot better than men twenty years younger. He nodded at the small pile on a cushioned chair.

Brienne walked toward it and found a long-sleeved t-shirt, a heavy jacket, jeans and socks. She raised her eyebrow at Jaime. “I see you intentionally neglected to put out my underwear.”

“Being as I tend to bring disaster to your cotton bits and just throw them around and never find them again, I thought to do my part in saving the environment by having you skip them,” he told her, grinning. “You wouldn’t want me to be arrested for littering, don’t you?”

He wrapped his arms around her from behind as he spoke. He felt her blush as his hand felt for an opening in the sheet to palm her cunt. She swatted him but it was half-hearted. _Ah, there she is,_ he thought with satisfaction as his hand settled on that wonderful, warm, wet place. She sagged against him, her head dropping on his shoulder as he easily pushed two fingers in her semen-slicked cunt. His fingers fucked her hard and deep, sending her to a harsh, keening orgasm. He took advantage of her limp, relaxed state by tossing her back in bed and getting rid of the sheet. He settled himself between her legs and began pressing gentle kisses around her jawline, down her throat.

“What is it with you and me wearing underwear?” Brienne growled. “Ever since we, you know, got together.” She turned to the side.

“Well, you don’t wear a bra.” He licked her shoulder.

“So?”

“Haven’t you noticed how eager I am to get to you? And what a relief that a bra is one thing I don’t have to deal with? Think how much sooner I can fuck you when you skip wearing underwear. And you’re very impatient.” He put his hands back on her body and turned her around to face him. His hands fell on her hips.

She was Lannister red now. “No, I’m not, Jaime.”

“Please? We’re on vacation.”

“We’re not on vacation. We’re on a couples retreat. We're here for counselling.”

“And we’ve fucked three times. When was the last time we fucked three times in one night?”

Though she was turning redder, Brienne sputtered, “We fucked twice the other night.”

“Too quickly. Last night, we took our time. We haven’t had much foreplay lately, if you remember. So, being that we made time for foreplay and fucked three times, we are definitely on vacation. And you can’t be Serious Brienne or Proper Brienne. You’re going to be _my_ Brienne, sexy, hornier and hot. Can't get enough of cock. _My cock._ ” 

“Jaime!” She exclaimed.

“What? Don’t think I’ve forgotten how being on vacation makes you a lot hornier than me. Wife, you fucked me at the football field in Tarth, remember? You fucked me on the beach too, in case you’ve forgotten my proposal. And the night before we married, you fucked me in that canoe your father’s been hollowing out for years. You fucked me so hard we broke it.”

Brienne was so red that Jaime couldn’t help but laugh. Enjoying himself, he whispered in her ear, “And what is it with you and vacations and fucking in public? _I love it. You get so wet.”_

“We are not fucking on the ground, Jaime Lannister,” she growled, giving him a glare when he pulled away. 

“But can you at least leave the underwear behind?”

“But we won’t be fucking.”

“Remind me to remind you of that when you pounce at me tonight.”

“I will be too tired from hunting to hunt for your cock.”

He took her hand and put it on his erection. Red spots bloomed all over her face.“I’m just right here. Do you need coordinates?”

“You’re impossible.” She said, snatching her hand away.

“But you love me.”

Brienne scowled at him. “If I’m going to forego an item of clothing, you should too.”

“Alright. I won’t wear underwear either. See? Now we can fuck sooner.” 

“But we’re going to be out in the wild, Jaime,” Brienne protested. 

He seized her waist through the sheet. He rubbed himself against her. “Then we’ll be out in the wild too.”

“Just don’t blame me if something crawls up your pants.”

“I’m not scared. Your hand will protect my cock. So, no underwear?”

Brienne frowned. “How about if I don’t wear underwear at night?”

He rolled his eyes. “When have you worn panties to bed since meeting me? No,” he said, his eyes flashing, bright, “you’re to go full commando, day and night.” He felt himself harden imagining his proper, scowling wife naked under all her clothes. 

“If I’m going to be commando day and night, you should too.”

“That’s what I expected.”

“And you’re not just going to laze around in the tent. You’ll learn to hunt. To fish. Set up a tent. Start a fire with just rocks.” Brienne looked triumphant. 

“You seem to be under the impression that piling on these demands would have me backing out, wife,” Jaime told her. “Let me remind you that when it comes to your cunt, there’s not a thing I would say no to. You want me to skin the animals you bring back? Done. You want me to conquer cities? Seven Hells, I’m doing it. What else?”

“We will hire a new nanny.”

He frowned. “What?”

Brienne cupped his face. “Husband, I know you offered cut back on work and stay at home with our sons but it has gone on too long.”

“So? I enjoy being at home with our boys.”

“But it was only supposed to be a temporary thing. It’s been months. Don’t you miss work?”

He did. He missed being in an office. He missed wearing suits. He missed the adrenaline brought on by an impending deadline. But he didn't tell her that. He did love being at home with Drew and Ty. He loved welcoming her with a kiss once she was past the door. He couldn't tell her, not when she was already anxious enough about getting tenured. 

“I know you love being with Drew and Ty. And I love you even more for offering to stay at home and look after them, but the man I know and love, is as happy at work as he is at home. He leads a successful agency. His imagination knows no bounds. Every ad campaign under him is a masterpiece.” Brienne kissed him on the cheek then on the lips. Jaime groaned and put his arms around her waist. 

 

“We didn’t talk about how long you’ll be staying with them,” Brienne said in between kisses. “But I think we should use this time we have to talk about that, decide on a date. And you have to admit, we really do have to start looking for a replacement.”

Jaime rested his forehead against hers. “I agree. But you didn’t have to offer your panties to get me to do that.”

He felt her smile. “Seems like the promise of my cunt makes you do anything. You did say there’s not a thing you’d say no to if it’s my cunt you get.”

He chuckled and raised his head. Her hair stuck out in all directions, like errant straws and hay, there was still a sleepy look in her sapphire eyes, her lips were still swollen from their kisses. She was still red, though not as much now. He took her hands and brought them to his lips, kissing her fingers chastely.

“If you must know, it’s not just your cunt I want,” he told her. “I want the entire package all the time. My woman. _My wife._ ”

“You have me,” Brienne’s eyes were soft as she watched him continue to kiss her fingers. “You’ll always have me.”

He reluctantly dropped her hands back to her sides. “So, into the wild we go, then?” He said, sighing heavily. He was not looking forward to sleeping on the hard ground or sleeping under the stars. Also skinning animals but he gave his word. 

Brienne laughed. “You could be a little more excited, husband. After all, I won’t be wearing underwear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When Jaime is tender, he's still naughty.


	10. The Riverlands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne go to the Riverlands.  
> Jaime hates what Melisandre has assigned to them.  
> Find out what it is!

Jaime and Brienne got dressed and called room service for their breakfast. As they ate their omelette and toast, they recorded a video message for their sons, sent to their fathers’ phones. It was only ten minutes before seven, too early for life to stir back in their apartment. Jaime took a final sip of coffee as Brienne gave their bags a final check. He brought the cup to her and she finished the warm beverage. 

Melisandre was waiting for them in the lobby, once again dressed in a white dress with red flowers. She was surrounded by camping equipment and held two folders in her hands. She beamed when she saw them approaching.  
“Good morning. You look well-rested,” she said to them. 

It was a sincere comment but Brienne suddenly flushed. Jaime nodded. “We sure are. So,” he said, noticing the folders she held. “What else do you have in store for us?”

“My program is known for designing scenarios based on the couples’ test results and my interview,” she told them, handing out the folders. “I would like you to peruse what I’ve come up with and please, to ask me any questions you might have.”

She thought they were going to sit on one of the couches scattered in the lobby. Instead, they both dropped their bags at their feet and opened their folders. 

The Lannisters were identically dressed in plaid shirts, red for Jaime and blue for Brienne, worn, faded jeans and hiking boots. Melisande noted that Brienne wore a cap, making her look more androgynous. Jaime head was bare but that was because of the products he’d used to style it in a messy, stylish bedhead. Melisandre rolled her eyes. There was no guessing who was the delicate, fussy one.

Brienne was frowning. Jaime looked confused. “Where in our results does it indicate that I’m a prisoner and she’s the Westeros Marshall? I’m not. . .well, it would come off as if I’m complaining, wouldn’t it, Melisandre, but I’m a prisoner? And what it the likelihood of a Westeros Marshall having to transport a prisoner on foot across the Riverlands?”

“Actually, the original scenario was for Brienne to be a knight who is returning you, a prisoner, to your family. But I think it unnecessary for either of you to be in costume especially when it can easily be adapted to something a lot more modern.”

“But I don’t understand why she can’t just drive or bring me wherever I’m supposed to go on air.”

“If you read further down, you’ll see the background. The plane you were in crashed and only the two of you survived. You have no radio, no means of communication. There’s little to do but go on foot,” Melisandre said.

“Still, I’m the prisoner?” Jaime protested, looking at Brienne, who was smiling.

“Will Jaime be in chains?” She asked, getting a frown from her husband.

“Er. . .No. It’s going to be as authentic as possible but only to an extent. So no guns. No firearms of any kind. You lost your gun in the crash,” Melisandre explained, gesturing at the packet she held. “If this is going to be truly authentic, you wouldn’t have any tents or sleeping bags, anything to make you comfortable, but you do. Like I said, it’s only authentic up to a point.”

“I don’t understand what is it about me that brings to mind that of a criminal,” Jaime persisted. “It says here that I pushed a boy off the tower because he caught me. . .fornicating with my sister, who’s married to a powerful politician. That’s sick! What person in his right mind would do that. . .to. .a chld! With his own sister. And I have a twin sister. I’m basically fucking myself!”

Brienne grimaced. “Yeah, you went a little too far, Melisandre.”

“That’s not all. I murdered another prisoner while incarcerated. What the hell did I answer in the damned test and the interview? Sure, I was handsy with my wife but I expected to be a gigolo or a sleazy old man. What screams murderous, definitely addled in the head, criminal in that?” He would have said more but Brienne suddenly whispered in his ear and he flushed, nodding. “Okay. Yes. I know. I’m still sorry about that, you know.” He put a hand on her cheek and she kissed his palm. The look they exchanged could power a small city.

“How about if we switched roles?” Brienne turned to Melisandre. “What if I’m the prisoner and Jaime’s the Westeros Marshall?”

Melisandre shook his head. “I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

“Of course we’re not switching. If you’re going to be the prisoner it’s certainly not with this profile. This is a terrible human being,” Jaime told Brienne, shaking his head. “I won’t allow it.”

“You can choose not to go through with this,” Melisandre told them.

The Lannisters shook their heads. “We signed up for this,” Brienne said at the same instance that Jaime retorted, “Lions don’t back down.”

“Alright. Are there more questions? No? Then please,” Melisandre picked up the garment bags stretched over the equipment, “your clothes are in there. The dressing rooms are to your right.”

Five minutes later, the Lannisters were back. Brienne looked formidable in a navy blue jacket with W. Marshall stitched in gold thread at the back, a white shirt tucked in black cargo pants and black army boots. Blue was a good color on Mrs. Lannister, Melisandre thought. It emphasized the unusual sapphire gaze of her eyes and her smooth, pale skin. 

Jaime looked pissed as hell in the tan jacket he wore over a pale blue shirt, white t-shirt and faded jeans. Melisandre didn’t want their experience to be so authentic she’d have the man sacrifice comfortable and appropriate footwear. So instead of canvas sneakers, he was also in brown hiking boots. He was still handsome and could carry off being a criminal, mused Melisandre.

While the Lannisters had changed, she had their camping loaded in the helicopter. They wouldn’t be having much—a tent, sleeping bags, blankets, a lamp, rations, a compass for when they met her at for their nightly reports, a waterproof packet for matches, batteries, flashlights, a tool kit and a portable water filtration system, pots and pans for their cooking, as well as utensils and collapsible plates and glasses. 

“The scenario designed for you is based on your test results and the interview,” Melisandre told them. “You will not need your bags, so I advise you to get what you need there before we leave. Don't worry, your things will be returned to your room. Then I’ll brief you on your first task.”

Jaime whispered something in Brienne’s ear and once again, she blushed. Her head down, she excused herself.

Jaime’s green eyes assessed Melisandre. “Let’s hope this scenario you’ve designed for us works, Melisandre.”

“A relationship only becomes so because the people in it are willing to work on it, whatever happens,” Melisandre pointed out. 

Brienne returned, pushing something in one of the many pockets of her pants. Jaime took her hand and pulled her close.  
“For your first assignment, you will have to find the campground that’s been prepared for you and ready all that’s necessary for your stay there. This may be nothing to you both but in the unknown and finding yourself bare against the elements, you have no choice but to get a glimpse of who you really are. It’s also an exercise in trust. Mrs. Lannister, you have to trust him not to run away. You, Mr. Lannister, have to trust her to get you to safety. Then tonight, at eight o’clock, you will find me in the place as indicated on the map,” Melisandre said, handing them the rolled map.

“A map,” Jaime rolled his eyes. “We can’t even bring our cellphones.”

“I know how to use a map,” Brienne told him.

“There’s an emergency crew on standby ten kilometres from your campground.”

“Ten kilometres,” Jaime repeated. “Isn’t that too far?”

“If they’re any closer, what’s the guarantee you won’t take advantage of them?”

“You don’t trust us?”

“Rest assured that steps have been made to ensure your safety and health, Mr. Lannister, Mrs. Lannister. And should you have trouble getting there, you’re provided with flares and a radio.”

“We’ll be fine,” Brienne said, looking at Jaime.

Satisfied, they would have some technology, Jaime said, “Alright. Are we leaving?”

Melisandre swept a hand towards the door. “Follow me.”

The helicopter’s blades started turning as they exited the main cottage. Melisandre twisted her hair in her fist. The Lannisters put their arms around each other, each hunching down. Brienne entered first, then Jaime. Melisandre sat beside the pilot. The pilot indicated they put on headphones so they may still talk and hear each other.

Brienne clasped Jaime’s hand between hers as the helicopter rose in the air. Her dear husband didn’t do too well in small aircrafts. She pressed little kisses on his hand, his cheek, on his lips the entire ride. Jaime looked a little green but every time she pulled away to give him air, he held her fast and started kissing her. She laughed despite the heat wave that ran from her head down to her toes, and was glad that Melisandre and the pilot couldn’t see them. Brienne was well aware that sometimes, she and her husband got so sweet it was gag-inducing.

Some thirty minutes later, the helicopter started to descend. Jaime felt his stomach drop and he gripped Brienne’s hand so hard it started to go numb. “Just look at me,” Brienne whispered and he obeyed, drowning in the cool, bright sapphire pools of her eyes. She wiped with her thumb the cold sweat on his forehead. “Just look at me and breathe.”

Jaime nodded. 

They were still looking at each other, Brienne whispering to him to breathe slowly and carefully, when the helicopter touched the ground. Melisandre opened the door for them. “Well, Lannisters, here you are.”

The bags containing their equipment joined them on the ground. Brienne had to hold up Jaime as they watched the helicopter leave with Melisandre. Then he told her he still didn’t feel too well. She helped him get on the ground so he may put his head between his legs.

“Take your time,” she told him. “I’ll study where we must go.”

“Sorry, wife,” he muttered from between his knees. “I’ll be fine in a minute.”

“I told you to take your time.” 

As Jaime tried to get calm, Brienne got on her knees and spread the map on the ground. Melisandre had marked their campsite and where they would be finding her tonight. Pinning the map with one knee, she stretched over one of the smaller bags. She found the tool kit and a compass there. She flipped open the compass and returned to the map.

“We won’t have to walk that far,” she told Jaime, making a quick calculation based on the scale. “How are you doing?”

“Getting there,” and it sounded like he was. His voice was clearer and when she looked at him, the greenish tinge on his face was beginning to fade away. 

Remembering another time when she had calmed him down by taking off her clothes, she joked, “Do you want me to fuck you?”

Jaime smiled weakly. “Oh, wife. I want you to fuck me all the time but. . .not yet.”

Brienne kissed him on the forehead. “I know. Just checking.”

“Besides, if I’m the prisoner and you’re my captor. . .nah, we’ll be fucking inevitably. There’s no resisting me and you look so fucking sexy in that uniform. You can arrest me anytime, Brienne Lannister.”

Brienne's face flared red but she kissed him again before straightening up to look around.

The Riverlands was one of the final frontiers of Westeros. Largely unexplored, standing in the middle of it gave Brienne a glimpse of another time, another world. Right on this very patch of earth they were on could have witnessed cavalries, wars, death, or maybe a king and his retinue idly passing through. She played with the idea that a knight had indeed transported a prisoner through here, once. That would be highly unusual but there was no mention of it in the histories of Westeros. 

Jaime slowly came to his feet, rubbing his eyes. Brienne looked at him, tilting her head and he met her gaze, watery green into calm blue. He should have water soon, she thought, beginning to shoulder their tent. 

Jaime grunted in disapproval and held out his hand. “I’m carrying that.”

“I can do it.”

“I know. But you’re navigating for us. Give it over.”

“Are you sure?”

He rolled his eyes. “Do you doubt me?”

“I’m concerned, that’ all.”

“Brienne. Give. It. Over.”

She removed it from her shoulders and gave it to him. Then they took their smaller bags. 

The sun was up, bright and milky in the cloudless sky. Where they were at, there was enough space between the trees to give them a glimpse of the world above. Brienne got the compass and the map and stared ahead. The trees were thicker there. They wouldn’t see the sky as much. She shot Jaime an inquiring look.

“Ready?” 

He was still a little pale but he said, “You know I’ll always follow you, wife. Lead the way.”

“Now might be a good time to teach you how to read a map and use a compass. We’ll lead together,” Brienne held out her hand to him. “Your place is at my side, if I may remind you.”

“No need,” he told her, slipping his long fingers between her own. “I know it’s where I belong.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I don't know how I'm going to make the Westeros Marshall-Prisoner scenario work either. So I feel for Jaime.


	11. Collusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emails!

11:30 p.m.  
From: sansastark@wu.com.  
To: tyrion_d_pimp@wmail.com  
Subject: Something you should know

Dear Tyrion,  
I’m sending this here and not to your work email because this is personal. Brienne spoke with me last week. She said that if anything comes up with the twins while she and Jaime are gone, I’m to get in touch with you. So here I am.  
Last night, your father called me. Drew and Ty got sick from having too much chocolate. I asked him to keep me updated but your father seemed resistant in asking for my help in the first place. Could you please check if they’re okay now?  
Thanks, S.

7:50 a.m.  
From: tyrion_d_pimp@wmail.com  
To: sansastark@wu.com, drcerseib@wmail.com  
Subject: Re: Something you should know

No problem but my father will sniff out this collusion. I can call, no problem, but maybe Cersei you can check, like pay a visit? Maybe father won’t be too suspicious. You’re pregnant. You want to be surrounded by babies.  
T

8:10 a.m.  
From: drcerseib@wmail.com  
To: tyrion_d_pimp@wmail.com, sansastark@wu.com  
Subject: I can hardly move

Dear brother, thank you for thinking of me, me, your fucking pregnant sister, who’s fucking forty-five years old, and fucking expecting twins. Are you out of your fucking mind? I haven’t seen my feet in months. MONTHS.  
That said, I’ll have Robert visit. I’m craving a steak from Wyman Manderly for dinner. He can check on the twins and then get his cow of a wife dinner. Being pregnant sucks.  
Sansa, don’t get knocked up. I don’t know if you’re seeing anyone but if you are, abstain from sex. If he loves you, he’ll respect that. Just don’t get pregnant. It’s more than Seven Hells. You lose bladder control, your tits will never be the same, your ass will never be the same. That’s just one from one baby. What if you have fucking twins?  
Men are crap. Fuck them but that’s what got me here in the first place.  
Cersei

8:15 a.m.  
From: sansastark@wu.com  
To: tyrion_d_pimp@wmail.com, drcerseib@wmail.com  
Subject: Uh, thank you?

I’ll be sure to remember your advice, Cersei. I’m sorry to hear your pregnancy is difficult.  
Tyrion, okay, if Robert won’t mind? Thank you.  
Sansa

8:17 a.m.  
From: drcerseib@wmail.com  
To: sansastark@wu.com  
Subject: Re: Uh, thank you?

It’s not difficult. IT’S MORE THAN SEVEN HELLS.  
I’m telling you, Sansa. If you can keep your legs shut, then by the gods, do so.

8:18 a.m.  
From: tyrion_d_pimp@wmail.com  
To: drcerseib@wmail.com  
Subject: TMI!

Dear Sister,  
I don’t need to be yelled at over email. I’m yelled enough as it is at home by my PREGNANT wife. I did not need to know what’s going on with your body, certainly not in that detail. And do be careful with bashing men. One of your twins is my nephew. Hell, I have two nephews from you. I do not appreciate profanity being thought around them.  
T

8:26 a.m.  
From: drcerseib@wmail.om  
To: tyrion_d_pimp@wmail.com, sansastark@wu.com  
Subject: Why don’t you fuck yourself in the ass

That’s it.

9: 00 a.m.  
From: sansastark@wu.com  
To: tyrion_d_pimp@wmailcom, drcerseib@wmail.com  
Subject: what?

Cersei, I hope that was sent by mistake to me. Also that it isn’t nice to say that to your brother. Or to anyone.

9:02 a.m.  
From: drcerseib@wmail.com  
To: sansastark@wu.com, tyrion_d_pimp@wmail.com  
Subject: Apologies

I’m sorry. Sansa, that wasn’t meant for you but for Tyrion. I certainly would never say nor think that about you.  
Tyrion, Sansa’s right. It’s an offensive, childish thing to say. My only excuse is I’m hot and forever dealing with disgusting sweat under my breasts and. . .all over. It doesn’t help that I’m at the hospital and I smell of blood and sweat all day. I’m not making an excuse for my behaviour, I’m sorry if it came off like that. I am truly sorry.  
Love, Cersei

9:30 a.m.  
From: sansastark@wu.com  
To: drcerseib@wmail.com  
Subject: Re: Apologies

I wasn’t mad. And I do understand. No worries.

10: 00 a.m.  
From: tyrion_d_pimp@wmail.com  
To: drcerseib@wmail.com  
Subject: Re: Apologies

Don’t worry about it sis. You’re entitled to bouts of meanness. So, can Robert check on Drew and Ty?

10:10 a.m.  
From: drcerseib@wmail.com  
To: robertbaratheon@wmail.com  
Subject: Spy Job

My Heart,  
Sansa’s reported that Drew and Ty got their hands on too much candy last night. Brienne told her to get in touch with Tyrion if something comes up with them. Tyrion would go to see your nephews but he thinks father would figure out he’s being spied on. I’d do it but I can’t. Could you? After work? Drop by and check on them?  
And also bring me home steak from Wyman Manderly? I’m craving steak and eggs.  
10:13 a.m.

To: drcerseib@wmail.com  
From: robertbaratheon@wmail.com  
Subject: Re: Spy Job

Of course, my heart. I’ll go there at my lunch hour, if I can. If not, then yes, I’ll check on them after work. Why don’t I call them now? Alert them that I’ll be visiting. That won’t be as suspicious as suddenly dropping by.  
Your steak and eggs request is noted. Though I am concerned you’re eating a lot of steak lately, Cers. Now I wouldn’t dream of depriving you of cravings but I’m just concerned about your health. Now that I’ve mentioned it, I also seem to be eating more red meat than usual. It appears to be the only thing I can eat these days. What’s up with that? And my back hurts. My feet ache. Too much iron, maybe? Protein? 

Please don’t yell at me. On email. 

10:47 a.m.  
From: drcerseib@wmail.com  
To: robertbaratheon@wmail.com  
Subject: Re: Re: Spy Job

No, I won’t. In person, if you forget that I like my steak extra rare, not medium rare.  
This is the price of loving me, my heart. You knock me up, I make your ears bleed.  
But I do love you. I love you, I love you.  
I don’t do consultations over email. I’ll examine you when you get home. In bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sansa's email, sansastark@wu.com, is her school account, Winterfell University. 
> 
> In case you missed it, tyrion_d_pimp@wmail.com is his personal email. His work email is tlannister@kluw.com
> 
> drcerseib@wmail.com is Dr. Cersei Baratheon. 
> 
> And Robert has a really boring email address.


	12. Two Grandfathers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turns out Selwyn and Tywin have more in common than they think.

Selwyn Tarth rubbed his eyes as he sipped coffee. It was his second cup and it was only ten-thirty in the morning.  
It was almost dawn when Ty’s and Drew’s stomachs calmed down. Finally hit by exhaustion, they fell into a deep sleep. Selwyn and Tywin forced themselves to stay awake for another hour, making sure that the twins were truly resting before they allowed themselves to retire.  
Jaime and Brienne’s apartment was small, with only three bedrooms. Since Selwyn was supposed to be the only one to look after the twins, the guest room had been prepared for just one. It surprised everyone when Tywin offered to sleep on the convertible couch. The couple had weakly offered their bedroom but Tywin was insistent about the couch. 

Tywin Lannister was still fast asleep when Selwyn made coffee, drained the first cup and moved on to the second. Selwyn stared at the cannister for sugar, debating whether to put more in his coffee before he shook his head. Sugar got the twins in trouble in the first place. His insistence that they experienence junk food, precisely.

Was this how being a grandfather went? He thought, sighing. As a soldier, it was not unusual to go for more than twenty-four hours without sleep, especially when in the battlelines. He remembered the exhaustion, of feet leadened by heavy boots, a spine about to snap from the weight of the pack, not to mention that you could step on a landmine anytime—lose your life at any fucking time. 

Being a grandfather was a thousand times more exhausting.

When Jaime and Brienne visited Tarth with the boys or Selwyn flew to them for a week or two, the care was not entirely on his shoulders. He had his brothers to help out in Tarth, large, muscular men reduced to mush and talking gobbledygook . Including Duncan, though that had to be seen to be believed. He was in charge of bedtime stories. He didn’t read them from a book but acted out original stories that involved gunfire, ears being bitten off, yanking someone on the nuts—the excitement in his storytelling did not help in putting the twins to sleep. They laughed or also shouted, “Bang! Bang!” to the point that it alarmed their parents. Brienne had to ask her uncle to tone it down.   
Selwyn’s last visit on the twins’ second birthday. Their nanny, Sansa Stark, had left some months before. Jaime took over the twins’ care, cutting back on his hours at LSM Creatives and working from home. His goodson had been there to help out. When he had to leave, Selwyn happily took over for a few hours. That involved watching the twins sleep, reading to them, giving them a snack or taking them out to the park for fresh air.

Last night revealed to him that childcare was a round-the-clock job.

He did not spend a lot of time with Brienne when she was infant, only when she was much, much older, when she hit eighteen. Even then, it wasn’t as much until his retirement. When Arianne died giving birth, Selwyn couldn’t stand to be in a place where every corner reminded him of her. There was no way to give up Evenfall Hall, it was the seat of Tarths from the very beginning and it would remain so for all the generations to come. 

In the years to come, he would regret choosing to be away from home, from his daughter. Too late did he realize his mistake. When he started the slow return to her life, she already had to leave home.

Deciding to be a father some twenty years after meant a lot of mistakes, mistakes his daughter easily forgave, except for one that almost tear them apart. Selwyn struggled for a long with the idea that Brienne was not only in love with Jaime Lannister, she was also going to marry him. The arrogant cub had dared to tell Selwyn he didn’t need his blessing for Brienne’s hand, only her permission. Selwyn didn’t know if Brienne was aware that he and Jaime had talked before he proposed, nor did he see the sense of telling her. There was also the fact that the younger Lannister proved to be a respectable man completely devoted to his daughter and their sons. 

All the love and care Selywn had not been able to give Brienne, he now poured to his grandsons. They were beautiful, delightful boys. They had Brienne’s round, bright blue eyes and also a splash of freckles on their nose. Ty’s hair was a mix of golden curls and straw, yet soft. Drew had his father’s golden blond hair but it appeared to be straight, unlike his brother’s. As they grew, their strong resemblance to their father became clearer. Selwyn was pleased that his grandsons would be making a bunch of ladies weak in the knees a few years from now.  
Selwyn was putting his mug in the dishwasher when Tywin started to wake. Tywin was slow to sit up, rubbing his eyes as he did, a hand on his back. Despite having slept long, he did not look well-rested. He glared at the convertible couch. “I would think that my son could afford better than this piece of shit furniture,” he complained, yawning.

“Morning to you too, Tywin,” Selwyn got another cup, poured coffee into it and went to him. Tywin jerked back because Selwyn had put it too close to his nose, almost bumping it. Sighing, he nodded his thanks and took a sip.

He had to struggle swallowing the bitter bilge. “What the fuck is this?”

“Coffee, you idiot.”

“Coffee? This tastes like petrol gone bad,” Tywin set it down on the coffee table in front of him. 

“Well, I’m sorry there’s no fancy cappuccino machine for your coffee, sire,” Selwyn said sarcastically as he sat down on the other end of the couch. “Next time you wake up early and take care of the coffee.”

“Seven hells,” Tywin muttered, bringing his feet to the floor. He rested his elbows on his knees while he put his face in his hands. 

“I apologize for last night.” Selwyn said to the hunched man. “It was careless. I was tasked to take care of my grandsons and I shat on it.”

Tywin grunted in his palms. “Good of you to own up.”

“When I’m wrong, I do say I’m wrong.”

Tywin raised his face and sighed. “Fuck, this grandfathering business is not as. . .fun as I thought it would be. It’s work. Fucking work.”

“You’ve raised three children,” Selwyn pointed out. “I didn’t raise the only child I have.”

Tywin shook his head. “I didn’t either.”

“What are you talking about?”

“When. . .after Joanna died it was difficult. You would know. You lost your wife too. Neither of had the opportunity to say goodbye. People who don’t know what we’ve lost often say, live for the children. But tell me how could you live knowing the love of your life is gone and you are reminded all the time of it in the little touches she left in your home, in your children?”

Selwyn didn’t say anything. Brienne was all Tarth with her straw-blond hair, sapphire blue eyes and tall, broad frame. But she had Arianne’s freckles. Arianne’s eyes had been gray but when Brienne’s temper flared, her eyes flashed and turned stormy in a way that was very similar to her mother’s. Her voice was also a lot like Arianne’s, husky and deep, given to exaggerated inflections when her emotions were strong.

Then there was also how easily prone she was to blushing. Arianne turned red at the slightest tease, when she was over the moon, when she was angry.

He never resented Brienne, though he knew it looked like he did since he spent more than half her life away from her. It took a while to stop asking that question that will never be answered: why Arianne had to die.

“My children are older than their mother was when she left,” Tywin was saying. “When I see my daughter, I see how Joanna would have looked like if she had gotten to that age. Tyrion’s most like me but the science thing—his and Cersei’s—that’s all Joanna’s. Joanna was a forensic botanist for King’s Landing Police Department when we met. Jaime in the arts— now, that’s a Lannister has never done before. Break away from the mold and be his own man. We Lannisters do like to keep to ourselves.” 

Selwyn huffed. “I know you thought Jaime had settled on my daughter. That is, until you knew her fancy pedigree.”

Tywin rolled his eyes. “Never going to forgive me for that, are you?”

“Brienne is the only person in this world who can handle your son. Admit it. A lesser woman would have given up or cut off his tongue.”

“Of course I admit it. My only mistake was I was slow to realize.” Tywin said defensively. “The point I’m making is, yes, while it is largely your fault what happened last night, I did take part in it. I’m giving all the love I should have given to my children to Drew and Ty. That makes me a weak man, I guess, to be at the mercy of two-year-olds.”

“They’re cute babies. I don’t know anyone who wouldn’t be affected by that,” Selwyn said proudly.

Tywin stared at the rejected coffee again before he took a deep breath and another sip. This time he swallowed it easily. The first quaff had numbed his tongue. “How are they?”

“Sleeping. Neither need changing.”

“If they sleep any longer they’re going to be up all night. Are we ready for that?”

“Little as my experience is with children, I know for certainty you can never be ready enough for them.”

Selwyn got up, his movements light and smooth for a man his size and age. Tywin remained on the couch rubbing his stiff back again. He was thinking to lay down again—he did not get much sleep on the blasted little couch, when his phone rang. Frowning, he reached for the device on the side table. Robert Baratheon's name flashed from the screen.

“What is it?” He demanded to his goodson as soon as he answered.

“Cersei’s asked me to bring something to the twins after work,” Robert said, unperturbed his rude greeting. “Will that be alright?”

Selwyn frowned. “What is it?”

“I don’t know. One of those shawl, blanket-y things she’s been making, who knows,” Robert sounded irate. “Look, I’m only following orders and I don’t want your daughter any more upset than she already is.”

“And why is my daughter upset again?”

“Because she’s forty-five years old and pregnant with twins. And I’m upset because she’s upset that I got her pregnant. So if I do as she asks without question, then maybe she’ll be less upset with me. Seven Hells, Tywin, it’s like you’ve never been around a pregnant woman before.”

“Fine. If you must. Just don’t come too late and don’t overstay. The twins have a bedtime.”

“I have a son. I know the importance of bedtime.”

Tywin hung up and told Selywn, “Robert’s coming to check on the twins.”

“Whatever the hell for?” Selwyn demanded. “Drew and Ty are okay. I’m never having them anywhere near candy again.”

“I think our children don’t trust us with their own children,” Tywin didn’t know whether to be amused or pissed. “So why don’t we give them something they don’t expect?”

“What do you mean?”

Tywin rubbed his palms together, grinning. Boy, did he love scheming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my, what do they intend to do with Robert?!?


	13. Wild Lannisters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne have an argument.

Brienne estimated it would take them just a little over two hours to reach the campsite. For her, that wasn’t too long a walk, not in the forest with uneven trails, low-hanging branches scratching at her face and hair and the occasional snake slithering past her boots (good thing Jaime had not seen that one, her hands were full with the map and the compass and she wasn’t going to carry her husband the entire way). Work and motherhood had cut her workout time but she made it a point to run at least three times a week, even for just forty-five minutes. She no longer needed to lift weights since her darling babies were more than suited for that purpose. As a result, her arms were stronger and more toned than before, as well as her stamina.

Jaime worked out too. Unlike Brienne who preferred the outside, he liked to exercise indoors and did it on the treadmill in their bedroom. He lifted weights in the gym though these days, the weights he used were their sons. He was still lean and muscular—the old college photos Brienne had seen of him showed little change. He was less boyish, of course, and his cheeks and jaw had gotten sharper, more angular, but the build and weight were still the same. As for his stamina—well, she could personally attest that Jaime Lannister had loads of it.

She was beginning to think he only had that much stamina _with_ her.

She had taken off her jacket thirty minutes into their trek, tying the sleeves around her waist. The breeze was cool in the forest and when it picked up, goosebumps crawled down her arms. She had unbuttoned her shirt halfway to her stomach, and the tank she wore underneath was already damp with sweat. A dark pink flush ran from her face down to her chest from the constant exertion but she was far from tired, even with the bags she was carrying. 

Jaime, on the other hand, appeared to be floundering.

Stripped to his t-shirt, His face and arms gleamed with sweat and more were on his shirt—it stuck to him like second skin. Several times Brinne offered to carry the tent. He glared at her and told her curtly he was could very well manage if she just slowed down. It was classic Jaime to blame everyone else but himself—a trait of his that drove her up the wall and had never improved since she’d known him. There was also that stubborn pride thing. 

So she stopped offering to switch and intentionally slowed down. She ignored Jaime panting behind her. If he wasn’t going to ask for a break, she wasn’t giving him one. 

They arrived at the campsite fifteen minutes later than she thought. Brienne blinked at the scenery before her. A wild, rushing river greeted her, promising cool water and an abundance of fish. She thought they could put their tent some distance away—much of the ground was rocks and uneven, sharp ground towards the river. But there was the soft, grassy earth all around. She shielded her eyes as she looked up the sky. A check on this week’s weather in the Riverlands to expect only the slightest rain but you never knew. It pleased her that the trees grew so closely together they were jostling at each other, giving them shade from the sun and the rain. 

Jaime, lumbering behind her, collapsed on one of the rocks, shaking off the bags as he did. He was no longer pale but pink and sweating heavily.

“You alright there, husband?” Brienne asked him.

“How can you still be standing after walking that far?” Jaime panted, leaning against a boulder. 

“You need water. I’ll look in the bags for a filter.”

He nodded but said, gesturing towards the river. “Looks clean enough.”

“You can never be too sure.”

She went quickly through their packs before finding the portable filters Melisandre told them about. She found the pouches they came with and two water bottles. Jaime was still leaning against the boulder, his eyes closed. Brienne went to the water, scooped a generous amount into the pouches then screwed the filters on. She poured them into a bottle and returned to Jaime, holding it out to him.

He shook his head. “You first.”

She shook it at him. “After you.”

“You look like you’re ready to kill me if I don’t. Fine,” he said, taking it from her. He drank thirstily, spilling some down his throat, on his damp shirt. “Gods, that’s good.” He looked like he would drink more but he offered the rest to her. 

“Finish it. It’s not like we’re running out, Jaime.”

He glared at her and pushed it toward her. “Your husband commands you to drink. Drink.”

Brienne resisted rolling her eyes, knowing he meant well. So she took it drank. She moaned as cool, fresh water bathed her mouth and slid down her throat silkily. She straightened her head, wiping the back of her hand on her mouth. “You’re right. Gods that’s good. So good.”

“More?”

“More.”

For the next few minutes, they knelt by the riverbank, scooping water onto the pouches then pouring them into the bottles. They drank until sating their thirst. 

Groaning, Jaime rolled onto his back. Brienne cried out, “Jaime! The ground’s wet and that’s your only shirt!”

“I don’t care. I’m tired. You can take off my shirt,” he said, closing his eyes.

Brienne shot to her feet, almost losing her balance but the soles of her boots held her. “We can’t rest yet. We have to set up the tent and then check what rations they’ve got for us. I also have to teach you how to set up a snare or if that takes too long, to fish and then we have to go gather wood—“

He opened one green eye. “Don’t take offense, Brienne. Usually, everything you say is a turn-on, especially when you’re scolding me but none of what I’ve heard in the last twenty seconds gave me wood.”

Then he shut his eye. 

“If that’s the only wood I’ll have to rely on for fire I’ll be shivering early into the night,” Brienne grumbled.

“Ouch. I’d be happy to whip it out just to show you just how hot it will make you the entire night until the wee hours but I’m too tired.”   
“Jai-me Lan-nis-ter,” Brienne enunciated every syllable of his name through gritted teeth. “Our first assignment is to get to the campground and then ready our tent. Are you seriously, seriously implying I have to set up that thing myself?”

“No! I just want to close my eyes and sleep!” Jaime snapped, flinging an arm over his eyes. “It’s still fucking daylight.”

“It’s almost noon, you idiot. The sky isn’t as blue and there are storm clouds in the horizon. Look.” She pointed at the darkening clump of gray clouds slowly approaching them but Jaime still had his eyes covered.

“I don’t know if you have any idea how tired I am. I can’t even think of fucking right now—and I’ve always thought I’d never be too tired for that.”

“If you think I’m just going to stand around and wait until you’re ready, you’re very much mistaken. I hope you fucking freeze your ass off because when I finish with the tent, you’re never setting foot in it!”

Jaime jumped as Brienne’s booted foot landed too closely to his face as she stormed off. Muttering under his breath about impossible women and stubborn wives, he sat up. Brienne was walking away from him in long, heavy strides, her spine stiff and her arms swinging swiftly. He sighed loudly and lurched to his feet.

Brienne was so mad she could hardly see straight. Yet the practice was stamped in her hands and muscles. She unzipped the bag containing the tent and yanked out the poles. Her movements were sharp and rushed, alerting Jaime as he approached her just how pissed off she was.

“Brienne,” he said softly.

“I’ve nothing to say to you,” she growled then hissed angrily. Jaime had to bite his lip to stop the smile from spreading across his face. If she caught that, she might punch him. His wife’s hands were bigger.

“I’m sorry,” he crouched down behind her and slowly put his hands on her shoulders. “You took good care of me and you still are and your husband is being a spoiled ingrate.”

He expected her to turn but she kept on digging things out of the bag. Suddenly, she shot to her feet and looked down at him. In the darkening daylight, even with sweat on her face, face red with annoyance and her damp clothes, she looked magnificent. Her unsmiling face hinted more at the strength she had. Jaime looked at her boots.

“Why am I always made out as the bad guy, Jaime?”

“What are you talking about?” He asked, still on his knees and looking up at her. “I’m the one apologizing here. _I’m_ the bad guy.”

“But are you really sorry?”

Narrowing his eyes, he stood up. “Why do you always doubt me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Every time I offer to do something, especially with the children, you’re always hesitant, as if you don’t think me capable of doing it. You always ask, `Are you sure’ and fuck, I wouldn’t have wanted to help if I wasn’t.”

“Because you’re hardly serious,” Brienne bit out. She wore a scowl so deep there were four, thick lines between her eyebrows. 

“What are you talking about?”

“Look what happened just now. You knew what we had to do. And all you could think about was resting and being too tired to fuck. How do I know you’re serious if that’s how you think?”

“I don’t think that way, Brienne.” 

“No? How about every time we’re supposed to have a serious discussion you make a joke out of it? Look, I get how humor diffuses a tense situation but sometimes it’s really ill-placed. Like five minutes ago.”

“I wasn’t being funny. I was tired. Hells, I still am! But instead, I’m standing here, apologizing to you.”

Her eyes were blue, lashing fire. “Oh, I’m _sorry,_ Jaime, that you had to interrupt your beauty sleep to apologize to me. I regret the inconvenience caused,’ she said sarcastically.

He sighed loudly. “Look. I’ve apologized. I regret my actions. I don’t want to fight.”

“But are you really sorry? Or are you just saying it for fuck’s sake?”

His eyes drifted to the sky. It wasn’t the cloudless blue this morning. “And we’re back to that.”

“Answer me, Jaime.”

“Of course, I’m sorry! _I’m sorry!_ ” Jaime beat at his chest. “What else do you want?”

“I’m not the bad guy here,” she repeated.

“And I am.”

“I didn’t say that,” she muttered.

“Don’t lie to me, Brienne.”

“You know I can’t lie to save my own life. Or anyone else’s. I just don’t like how. . .how I seem to mother you often.”

Brienne lowered her head but Jaime didn’t miss the deep blush that climbed to her cheeks.

“I’m always nagging you. Reminding you. Telling you what you shouldn’t and should do. I don’t know if you get a kick out of it, Jaime,” she continued. “But I don’t like it. I don’t like nagging you and telling you what you should do. You’re a grown man but sometimes. . .”

He put a finger under her chin and tipped her face up so he could look into her eyes. 

“Tell me,” he urged her.

Her eyes drifted down, her blush getting more vivid.

“You swore to me before to never stop talking to me no matter how mad you are,” he reminded her gently. “Look at me, Brienne.”

“Sometimes you act like a child,” the words came out in a gruff rush. 

He gave her a small smile. “I thought that was one of the endearing things about me.”

She glared at him. “You’re doing it again, Jaime.”

“You’re right. I use humor as a shield against a tense situation. If that makes me childish and annoying, harder to live with, I apologize. I really am sorry. But that’s the man you married, Brienne. You swore to love me and be with me.”

“I’m not demanding you change. I know exactly who you are. But sometimes it’s so. . .sometimes I want to strangle you, do you know that? You make me so mad—“

“Then why don’t you tell me?”

“Because you’re going to use that argument you just said. And I’m right, aren’t I?”

“You won’t demand I change but I promise you, I swear to you, wife, I intend to get better. No, I don’t mean that I’ll be more of an ass than usual—I don’t know if there’s anything that can be done about that—but you have my word that I’d like to improve on it. I certainly don’t want you thinking I don’t take our marriage and children seriously. Because I do. Believe me, do not doubt me. _I do._ ”

Brienne still looked mutinous so Jaime pulled her to his chest and hugged her.

He didn’t know he was holding his breath until her arms went around him.

Then she was stepping away, releasing him quicker than he wanted. Brienne knelt back on the ground and he joined her. As she bent her head, he pressed a kiss on the side of her neck. She tilted her neck so he could kiss her better. He licked her skin, her sweat, taking the flavour deep in his mouth. Then he pulled away and moved to a sitting position. 

“These are the pole and the sleeve,” she said, picking them up from the ground. “They form the shape of the tent.”


	14. Questions and Answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne do one of Melisandre's assignments.

The sky fell hard just as Jaime and Brienne finished setting up the tent. Jaime got their sleeping bags and tossed it inside while Brienne whipped out a plastic sheet over their other camping equipment. When she crawled her way in to the tent, Jaime was unzipping the sleeping bags and laying them side by side. She pulled up the tent flap and sealed it shut. 

Their clothes were damp, this time with rain. Brienne had shrugged off her jacket and shirt a while ago, leaving her with just an undershirt. She wasn’t cold but keeping damp clothing on could result in a cold, even a fever. She tugged it over her head.

She climbed to her knees to unbuckle her belt, just as Jaime did the same, facing her. He had gotten rid of his t-shirt too, leaving his chest bare and with some droplets of rain clinging to their golden curls. His grin was teasing and seductive, widening when her nipples tightened to pink points. Suddenly, it was too hot in the tent. He whipped off his belt and grabbed her by the belt she had forgotten was still on her. He kissed her, tasting of Jaime and sun and rain. She couldn’t resist and slipped her tongue past his lips. 

“Jaime,” she whispered as his lips left hers and drifted to her cheek, to her throat. His hands reached down to cup the cheeks of her ass through her pants, pressing her against his erection. “Jaime, we should—“ she gasped.

“Yes, we bloody well should,” he said and quickly tossed her on her back right on the sleeping bags. Automatically, her legs opened and he fit his hips in the niche they formed. Brienne closed her eyes, her lips parting slightly as he tongued her from throat to breast. 

“I meant, husband—“ and fighting through the haze of lust, she grabbed him by the head so he would stop kissing her. “We should look at that folder.”

She had to bite back a giggle at his confusion. “What?”

“I took a look at it while you were recovering from the helicopter,” she told him, playing with the short, blond locks of his hair. She missed its long length but the shorter hairstyle worked for him too. “There’s a questionnaire.”

He rolled his eyes and groaned. “So no sex now?”

“How can you think of sex when it’s raining and we’re sweating?”

“That’s precisely why I want sex. It’s the perfect weather. And that’s your lovely natural scent I’m smelling now,” this he said as he nuzzled her neck. When she turned, dislodging him to the side, he let out a long-suffering sigh. Brienne turned to him while he adjusted, pushing himself further up so he could look right into her eyes. Then he put his chin on his fist, and his other hand on her waist. 

“I have a feeling we won’t be having any fun until we do the work, are we?” 

“Work can be fun. Work _is_ fun,” Brienne told him. She leaned forward, kissing and licking him on the chest, lightly nipping at his flat nipple. “Please, Jaime? We fucked up on the other questionnaire. I want us to be serious with this one.”

“It’s not fair,” he complained. “You’re using sex to sway me.”

“I’m not using sex. I’m kissing you,” Brienne corrected him, nuzzling her nose against his strong throat.

“You’re half-naked and doing that incredible thing with your lips and tongue,” Jaime sounded a little breathless as she continued kissing and caressing him. “To me, that’s sex.”

“If I’m using sex to sway you,” Brienne said, pulling away, “it would be while we’re fucking. I’ve never manipulated you that way. Count on me to never do that.”

He pulled her back to him. “Why’d you stop?”

“Because we have work to do. I’m serious, Jaime,” Brienne scolded him, swatting his hand when it settled on her breast. He groaned when she sat up and crawled to one of their bags. 

Brienne would never be a centrefold, Jaime thought, laying back and watching the muscles of pale, freckled back ripple as she moved, but to him, she was a whole lot sexier wearing pants, a loosened belt and boots than a naked, buxom woman with her legs spread wide open. His wife’s appeal was in her innocence. Right now, she was going around the tent unintentionally teasing him with her beautiful eyes, her smile, her body. But in a short while, she would be wrapping one of the thermal blankets around herself and blushing furiously. 

It wasn’t the easiest being in boots so she pulled them off, placed them neatly by the entrance of the tent then finished digging out their folders. She then went back to her husband, sitting before him. He watched her with golden flecks in his green eyes. They lingered on her face, and if felt as if he was kissing her, before they lowered to her breasts and her strong, firm stomach. “Stop that, we have work to do,” Brienne said, reaching for one of the blankets. Jaime smirked and sat up.

“Alright. But not too long.”

“We are not rushing through this, Jaime. Melisandre said getting to the campsite and fixing up the tent is the first exercise in trust. But before she left, she told me we’ll have to ask questions to each other. From here,” Brienne flipped open her folder and passed him his. 

Jaime sighed loudly again. 

“Jaime?”

He opened his folder and looked up at her. “What?”

“Please?”

Jaime felt like an ass. It was a whole lot different from just knowing. He was just pretending annoyance and giving his wife a hard time but this trip was not a vacation for Brienne. She wanted to work on their marriage, so by the Seven, so was he. Because it was important to them and he loved her. 

“Okay,” he told her, leafing through the papers before finding the questionnaire. “`Questions to Ask Your Partner to Deepen Your Connection.’” He read aloud. “Should we go by the numbers?”

“I don’t know.” Brienne was studying each of them. “Maybe let’s just ask what we feel like asking then take it from there?”

“Why don’t you go first?” He offered.

“Are you sure? Oh.” Brienne flushed, realizing she’d just done what he told her earlier bothered him. “Right. Um. . .oh. This seems like a good starting point. It says here if you could be a character in any book, who would you be and why?” 

She looked up and gave him her sapphire gaze.

Jaime thought for a moment then burst into a wide, excited smile. “Oh! You’d know this, this is up your alley. You know this.”

Brienne smiled encouragingly at him. “What?”

“The Legend of the Kingslayer.” Jaime was excited. “I read it as a child. I know it’s an old, old book, written just a little after Daenerys Storm-Born’s retaking of Westeros. He saved the people from The Mad King. He was reviled for it but he never regretted it. I’ve always sympathized with him though I have a feeling that if he were real, he’d laugh at my face and insult me.”

“That’s a wonderful book,” Brienne agreed. Then added quietly, “I’m not surprised.”

“How come?”

“Well, you’re the kind of man who will make the difficult choice, Jaime. You know people will not love you for it but you know it’s the choice to make. It’s not right, it’s not wrong but it’s the choice to make. It takes a brave man, with the highest honor, to do something like that.”  
They shared a look, tender, understanding and full of love. 

“Someday I’ll be that man, Brienne,” he promised, his voice slightly catching. 

“You are that man," she protested. 

Only you think so, Jaime thought, turning his attention firmly to the questionnaire. “Okay. It’s my turn. What about you? Who would you be from any book?”

“It’s so boring. I read this biography on my ancestor, Brienne of Tarth, when I was nine. I like this because it didn’t make a big deal about how ugly she was. It focused on her skill with the sword, her honor, her rise to become Lord Commander of Daenerys’ Queensguard. I know she’s not a character, but I admire her. I would have liked to be her.”

“I think you are. Foremost being she’s your ancestor so she still lives in you. And I know just how stubbornly honourable you are, wife.”  
“Jaime, I’m already blushing. Stop it.”

He chuckled. “I don’t have to do anything or say anything for that to happen. Alright. Next question’s mine.” He ran a finger down the paper. “Two words you’d say to your teenage self.”

Brienne looked thoughtful. “Just two words?”

“Two words.”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess, `Be ready.’”

“Tell me.”

“You know I didn’t have the easiest childhood, what with my father gone all the time. But my teenage years were a total nightmare. I was six feet tall by the time I was fourteen. And, don’t stop me, I’ve never been blessed with looks—“

Her words were cut off when Jaime, glaring at her, suddenly leaned forward and pulled her by the nape to kiss her hard on the mouth. It was a bruising, passionate kiss at first before it softened to deeper, consuming caresses of one mouth to the other. “Jaime,” she whispered as he licked her top lip, sucked on her bottom lip. “ _My Jaime._ ”

“Never put yourself down like that again, not before me and certainly when I’m not around,” he said firmly, setting her away from him. “Promise me.”

She nodded, her lips swollen by his kisses. “I promise.”

“Good.” Jaime sat back. The tension melted from his shoulders. “Go on.”

“Jaime, you’re going to have to hear this about that time in my life. It was. . .a nightmare, I tell you. There was hardly a day when I wasn’t made to feel lesser than the mud under their shoes. I was bullied and often ganged up on—which is why Uncle Dunk taught me self-defense in the first place. I hated it at first—he wasn’t gentle at all but. . .but. . .”

Her voice trailed off and she started breathing rapidly. Jaime went to her, his hands on her shoulders. “Brienne?”

Brienne had always thought she was never going to have to tell him this. She managed to walk away, unscathed, she had gotten away. That was what mattered, that she had not been damaged. But the night Humphrey Wagstaff had intended to drug her drink had stayed with her a lot longer than she thought. It was an indelible part of her life. 

“Remember when we were in Tarth and I got in this fight at the bar? Hugh Wagstaff and I had a history. Not that kind, thank the Gods. But. . .he was a cadet under my Dad. Dad forced me to go out with him at this formal cadet dinner. There was an after-party. I thought Humphrey too slick and did not trust him one second but Dad was. . .well, I’d like to think I’m dutiful.”

Jaime swallowed, dreading what she was going to say next.

“So, there was an after-party. Humphrey had gone to get me a drink when one the cadets warned me about this bet and what he was going to do. I confronted Humphrey—not the smartest thing in a roomful of men and only a few dates, and wearing the tackiest pink dress—and the bastard had the nerve to tell me I should be grateful somebody—he—was even thinking of- -of—having me. I punched him and left. I never told my Dad but Uncle Endrew knew. He—he saw me as I was getting home and feared the worst thing. I had to tell him the truth else he’d have gone after Wagstaff.”

Jaime’s face was grave. He gripped her shoulders. “Did you press charges?”

“No. I got away. And who would believe me if I did? Besides, he got kicked out soon after. That more than made up for what he did. When he confronted me at the bar, he was not only pissed but still thought he had the right to do what he thought to do. That part of my teenage life—that incident—that was the worst that had happened to me, Jaime. I was sure nobody would ever want me. I was sure people would always be cruel. If I could go back, I’d tell myself to be ready, not because of how bad things got, but how good they will be. A lot better than I’d hoped for.” Brienne took his hands from her shoulders and held them with hers. His green eyes had lost some of their sparkle because of her admission and she was going to put them back. “I wasn’t expecting much from life. But then came you, Jaime Lannister."

This time, she was the one to kiss him. His lips were frozen against hers, still shocked from her revelation. She took his face in her hands and pressed her lips deeper against his. “Kiss me,” she begged him. “It’s okay. I’m here. It’s in the past. This is what matters _now._ Jaime, please. _Please.”_

“Brienne, Gods,” he whispered against her mouth, pulling her closer. His fingers buried in her short hair as he gave in to her plea. He tasted her lips, gently pulling her lower lip between his. He tossed aside their folders and lay on the sleeping bags, pulling her on top. “I wish—I wish—“

She placed a finger on his lips. “Now is what matters,” she repeated.

“How can you still be the kindest, most wonderful person?” Jaime said in wonder, cupping her cheek. “All that’s happened to you. .. you’ve been hurt very badly but your heart. How is it undamaged?” 

And he raised his head, pressing his lips there. She clutched at his head while his lips roamed around the skin covering her thundering heart.

They lay on the sleeping bags, kissing softly, more to comfort each other than for passion. He wished for a kiss to draw a black sheet over all the bad things that had happened to her. She wanted a kiss that would assure him she was unbroken and he needn’t worry. But there was no such kiss, only the hope that every time their lips met, it was closer to that elusive magic.

Jaime pulled Brienne’s head to his shoulder, holding her close and tight in the circle of his arms.

She kissed him on the throat. “Two words you’ll say to your teenage self, husband?”

He didn’t have long to think. “Thank you.”

She propped herself up on her elbows so she was on her stomach. Her pants-clad legs were folded over her. “Thank you?”

“You know how wild Oberyn and I were when we were younger,” he told her, pushing her mussed hair away from her face. “You know that early on, I got a glimpse that this was the life I would have if I didn’t resist it. That’s what changed things for me. I think much of the decisions I still make goes back to that awakening. I’ll always be grateful for that. The hedonist life only most people can dream of and few have—I can’t fault others for wanting that. But I don’t want to imagine how my life would have been if I got swept away by that. There’s a lot of things I’ll have, sure, but I won’t have what I want.”

“What’s that?”

His eyes were emerald light boring into her. “You.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the link where those questions come from:  
> http://psychcentral.com/blog/archives/2014/02/22/17-questions-to-ask-your-partner-to-deepen-your-connection/


	15. Two Grandfathers (Part II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tywin ruins everything.

Ty and Drew woke up close to noon, looking a little tired. Yet their eyes were bright blue orbs, and they shrieked and leaped on their beds as soon as they saw their grandfather Selwyn entering their door.

“Poppa!” Drew cried out as he held out his chubby arms to his grandfather. 

“Good afternoon, young man,” Selwyn greeted him, lifting him from the bed. Ty was next. He gave his grandfather a toothy smile and rubbed his face against Selwyn’s chest. 

Holding the twins by their hands, Selwyn walked them out of the room. Tywin was in the kitchen and making pancakes. It was a familiar dish to the twins because they lifted their noses to the air at the same time and started clapping. They dropped Selwyn’s hands as they trotted around the apartment trying to locate the wonderful aroma of milk, eggs and bananas. Ty rounded the tall corner of the kitchen counter, found his other grandfather there and threw his arms around his legs. Tywin laughed.

“Pa’cake!” Tywin declared, holding up his arms. He was demanding to be lifted.

With pretend gruding, Tywin bent his legs and took him up. “You’re getting big, Ty. You’re going to break my back carrying you.”  
As Tywin flipped the pancakes with one hand and held the child watching him with the other, Selwyn led Drew to the couch. He pulled up his little grandson up to sit with him. 

It had been the first time since waking up and having that little talk with Tywin that Selwyn was able to sit down. He cooed as Drew started murmuring Poppa under his breath. Rest and sleep had energized the Lannister twins, Selwyn was pleased to find out. He leaned back, his grandson on his lap when he felt something hard and flat under his hip. Balancing the baby with one hand and reaching down with the other, he discovered it was his cellphone. The light pressure of his thumb activated the screen. An icon blinked up at him. Selwyn squinted.

“Pancakes,” Tywin called out from the kitchen. He was making “ooh” and “aah” sounds with Ty as the baby was plopped on his high chair.  
“Would you know what this blinking thing is?” Selwyn asked, standing up and carrying Drew in his arms in one fluid motion. He walked to the kitchen, holding out his phone to the other man.

Tywin squinted then felt in the pocket of his shirt for his glasses. He leaned forward, almost butting his nose on the screen and said, “Video message.”

Selwyn put Drew on the high chair and activated the screen with a swipe of his finger. Jaime and Brienne’s smiling faces filled the screen. They were both waving.

“Hello, my loves,” Brienne greeted.

“It’s a message from mommy and daddy,” Selwyn rewound the video. He bent between the two high chairs so the twins could watch. He pressed play.

“Hello, my loves,” rewounded Brienne said. She was smiling over Jaime’s shoulder, who held the phone for them. “We miss you very much.”

“Hot mommy!” Drew suddenly shouted.

Ty laughed and clapped his hands. “Sex mommy!”

Tywin looked at them with disapproval. “I better have a word with your father.”

Selwyn, who had paused the video again, glared at him. “Do you mind?”

“Fine.”

“Your mommy and I are just about to leave to go camping,” Jaime said as the video resumed. “We’ll be gone for a few days but we’ll be back before you know it. I hope you’re not giving your grandfathers too much of a hard time.”

Tywin, bent next to Drew’s high chair, frowned at Jaime. “You should watch your language around the children, Jaime.”

“It’s a video message,” Selwyn said, rolling his eyes. “He didn’t get what you just said.”

“Oh.”

“---love you and miss you,” Brienne was saying. “We’ll go to the carnival when we return. Corndogs and horsey, remember?”

Ty punched his fist in the air. “Horsey!”

“We’ll smother you with kisses when we return,” Jaime promised. Grinning, he turned and kissed Brienne soundly on the cheek.

Brienne laughed. “What’s that for?”

“Drew and Ty kissing you.”

“Well, in that case,” Brienne turned back to the camera. Her cheeks were pink.“Thank you, my sweethearts. You’re the sweetest boys. Here’s one from me.” She blew them a kiss.

“Mommy kiss!” Drew puckered his lips and started making kissing sounds.

“We love you!” Jaime called out. Then the screen went blank.

“Mommy, where?” Ty looked at his grandfathers with bigger blue eyes. “Want mommy. And daddy.”

“Camping, young man,” Tywin said, patting him on the head. “Some couples therapy thing. Couples therapy. What a crock.”

Drew’s eyes twinkled and he beat his fists on the tray of his high chair. “Crock!”

“I guess that’s where Jaime gets his language,” Selwyn said, putting the twins’ plates on the trays.

“Excuse me but I wasn’t the one dropping f-bombs all night,” Selwyn said. “If I know better, Brienne taught them that.”

“My daughter is hardly the sort to see herself as either of those things they said earlier,” Selwyn said. “That’s your son’s doing. He’s with the boys more.”

Tywin crossed his arms. He watched Tywin get syrup and reach for the tray of softened butter. 

“It’s not right for a mother to be away from her children so much,” Tywin said.

“Brienne isn’t away. She comes home every night and tucks them to sleep. Jaime told me.” Selwyn sliced a tiny amount of butter and put the little squares on the pancakes. Ty nodded excitedly when he saw the bottle of syrup tipped towards his pancakes.

“A mother should take care of the children,” Tywin insisted. 

“Brienne is taking care of her children. What of Jaime? Are you saying children don’t need their fathers as much?”

“It’s a different thing. Fathers have to work for a living.”

“Seven Hells, Tywin, I knew you were traditional but I didn’t know you were a misogynist.”

“What’s misogynistic about being traditional? I believe children are better off when around a mother more.”

“You’re completely disregarding that a woman has the right to pursue her own career and to require that she and her husband have an equal share in taking care of the children. You’re all but explicitly saying that because she’s a woman she should be the one responsible for the children. That’s just a short distance from keeping her barefoot and pregnant until she’s too old and too tired.”

Though Selwyn’s words were heated, he spoke in a singsong voice as he cut up the twins’ pancakes into small, biteable pieces. There was no mistaking hardness in his eyes, however, as he looked at Tywin.

“My son has a business to run. People depend on him for their paychecks. How do you think he’s managing that since he took over the children’s care?” Tywin demanded. 

“Last I heard, Lannister, Jaime volunteered.”

“He had to volunteer because your daughter is uncompromising.”

“That is not right and you know it. What’s the point of owning a business if you can’t take time off? And he’s running it with partners. That’s what they’re there for. They take over when one man’s down or gone.”

“Brienne has a more flexible schedule. No one depends on her for a paycheck. She’s not running a company. She’s a teacher, for crying out loud.”

Selwyn straightened up. He loomed over the shorter man. “Brienne Lannister is a soon-to-be-tenured professor in King’s Landing University. How dare you belittle her.”

“Fancy title for a _teacher._ ”

“So? You are a fucking bastard, Tywin. I thought your children were just being brats but they’ve been telling the truth.”

He could tell it stung, judging from how stiff Tywin’s shoulders got stiff. Still, he met Selwyn’s glare head-on.

“I know from Brienne you’ve never been Father of the Year.” 

“I’ve never denied being a terrible father.”

“The Honorable Selwyn Tarth,” Tywin mocked. 

“And what do you have to say for yourself, Lannister? `More money’ is that it? None of your children want anything to do with your so-called legacy.”

“They’ll come around,” Tywin waved his hand. “They always do. Jaime certainly will, I can see that. That’s where your daughter’s influence comes in. She always puts family above all, unlike her father.”

“Her name,” Selwyn huffed, “is Brienne.”

“Right. And aren’t I also right with how she is, Selwyn? She’s a sentimental one, that daughter of yours. Loyal too. You left her with no legacy so she’s going to believe it her duty to uphold that of the family she married into. Jaime always says yes when it comes to your daughter. She doesn’t like me but I only have to press a little before she does exactly what I want.”

“You’re not going to use her, Lannister.”

“Oh, I already have. Come on. It was the luck by the Seven Jaime got twins out of her—“

“Brienne. That’s her name, you arrogant bastard.”

“—so the Lannsiter legacy is secured. Tyrion and that wife of his are having a daughter so that’s only half a legacy and Cersei, please. She’s a Baratheon. You’re either a Lannister or not, never a half.”

It didn’t shut up Selwyn as he expected, however.

“Brienne is more than you think she’ll ever be, Tywin. A pity you don’t see that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those who want to slap or kick Tywin, the line starts here. Especially that crack about being a teacher. Seven Hells, Tywin.


	16. Blame Empathy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robert and Cersei have lunch together through Wype.

From the computer screen, Cersei Baratheon raised an elegant, curved brow. “You told father I’ve started making shawl things and I wanted you to bring them to Drew and Ty?”

Whenever possible, Robert and Cersei had lunch together via Wype. The occasions for this was quite few, what with Cersei now a chief resident and busier than ever and Robert once again in charge of a major takeover of a company, being a senior partner in the law firm. They worked long hours, longer than they wished. Lunch required serious coordination but dinner over Wype was more manageable.   
Now the Baratheon’s lunch hours coincided. Robert, thinking to enjoy a sandwich from the deli while he went over more contracts, was pleased when the computer pinged to announce that Cersei was online and had sent him a message. 

Despite her frown that reminded Robert of the disapproving scowl on Tywin’s face whenever he was around, he still thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Cersei looked more polished these days, her long, blonde hair pulled back in a sleek roll, the rich, red blouse she wore emphasizing its golden sheen and making her green eyes look bigger and rounder. Her eyes looked a little tired but that was from being kept up all night from the twins in her belly, not work. 

“If there’s anyone who’s nesting here, it’s you,” she continued. “Unless you deny that was another of your decoupage boxes on my pillow this morning.”

Then she raised her hands, showing him the cheeseburger she was eating crammed with what appeared to be double pickles, extra melted cheese and a thick patty of beef. 

“Ssshh!” Robert hissed, his hands automatically framing the laptops screen. “Not so loud!”

Cersei rolled her eyes. “Speakers are on the keyboard side, my heart. Either left or right.”

“You could be a little more appreciative,” Robert told her, dropping his hands. “That wasn’t easy.”

“Robert, you don’t have to do decoupage, you don’t have to worry whether cashmere is a better blanket for the babies, and you certainly don’t have to worry if you’re getting cellulite. I don’t know what’s gotten in to you these past months.”

“A moment on the lips, forever on the hips, don’t you know that?” Robert protested. “Look, I’m as much of a carnivore as you are but have you seen how much meat we’ve been putting away lately?”

“I could eat an entire cow and that probably wouldn’t be enough still. I’m eating for three. You don’t have to eat for three.”

“Are you seriously telling me I’m fat?”

Robert’s blue eyes widened. Cersei had a hand over her mouth. 

“Did you just—“

“No, I didn’t!”

Cersei suddenly giggled. “Fuck me, Robert, you just whined like a bloody woman!”

“What the fuck is happening to me, Cersei?” Robert wailed. “My feet hurt all the time, my back fucking aches and I just eat and eat and eat! I’m fat!”

“You’re not fucking fat!”

“Don’t you fucking lie to me!”

“Don’t you fucking think I would lie to you—ahh.” Cersei flushed and looked down at her belly. Then she glared back at him from the screen. “You like me pregnant!”

“When the fuck did I ever liked you pregnant? You’re a mean bitch yelling at me all the time.”

“I don’t—“ and Cersei flushed again but she jabbed a finger at him. “Don’t call me a bitch.”

Rober took a deep breath.

“Sorry,” they told each other at the same time.

“What the hell was that all about?” Robert buried his face in his hands. “Seven Hells, Cers, what the fuck is going on with me? I can. . .I’m so fucking emotional. Do you know that last night I wept over this newly-signed contract? I cried because it was finally signed.”

“You cried over a piece of paper and ink?”

“Not helping, my heart.”

“Oh? How about that apparently I’ve been knitting and making useless things. Shawls, really, Robert? I can hardly put on my underwear without worrying I’d break my back and you want me to pretend to be some knit master just because you couldn’t come up with a better lie to check on my nephews?”

“They're my nephews too. What, I’m to bring them candy? Brienne doesn’t let them eat candy and I’m pretty sure she’s instructed your father and hers to refuse all candy gifts. How will I check on them them if I said the Candyman’s coming?”

Cersei let out a laugh. “That sounded really dirty for a second.”

“Stop thinking about sex.”

“You stop talking dirty.”

“I’m not talking dirty.”

“Right."

“Cersei, you have to know what’s wrong with your poor husband. I’m not myself. You know I’m not myself.”

“I know. It’s nothing but sympathy pains, my heart. Nothing to worry about.”

“Sympathy pains?”

“It’s sweet, actually. You feel for me, that’s why you’re like that. But,” Cersei plucked a pickle from her cheeseburger and popped it in her mouth, “I have no desire for decoupage and arts and crafts, Robert. You’re on your own there.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“You’re not fat.”

“Right.”

“If anything, you seem to have lost weight.”

“That’s because I’ve been throwing up nearly everything I eat. But you’re already eight months along! Why the hell?”

“I still can’t stand poultry and somehow, the sight of radishes make me sick and there’s still the petrol think that makes me feel as if the twins would be exploding out of my mouth. But no, I can keep things down now.”

“You’re going to have to try to eat vegetables, my heart.”

Cersei made a face.

“When our children are born wanting blood, you know why,” Robert said, shrugging. “Speaking of blood, how do you think you’re brother’s faring? I’ve got three hundred dragons that says he’d cry by the second day because he won’t have any of his hair products with him. Or wish himself dead. That man spends an unusual amount of time with his hair.”

“Yeah, pretty much what I put in too. Jaime’s never gone camping and he’s going to make Brienne do all the work. But I trust my goodsister to throw him over the cliff. So I guess with the dead thing, that’s really possible.”

“Margaery has five hundred dragons in.”

“What side is she on?”

“We’re all Team Brienne—you, me, Margaery, Bronn, Addam, Stannis, Lollys. Tyrion’s batting solo.”

“Sometimes, his idiocy is surprising,” Cersei said, shaking her head. 

“Yeah. Makes me doubt how you’re related.”

Cersei beamed and looked as if she could eat him up with gusto. “My heart, you are the sweetest.”

“But seriously. You really think your brother’s a prissy prima donna?”

“Precisely because he’s my brother why I know he is. Lannister men are dramatic and prissy. You don’t believe me?”

“Of course I do. Gods, that would have been something to see. Brienne tearing at your brother into little pieces. Something tells me she’s got his head in the water now.”

“I imagine her sharpening a little knife and thinking which parts of him to cut off first.”

“Your brother has that rare talent of making people want to kill him.”

“Meanwhile, every person I meet can only think of loving me.”

“As you say, my heart.”

“You could try to be a little more convincing. I’m carrying your fucking twins, my heart.”

Robert blew her a kiss. “And you’re doing it so well.”

“Fuck you.”

But Cersei grinned and mimed catching his kiss in her hand and pressing it to her cheek. Then she flipped him the bird.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because we need crack!Robert and crack!Cersei.


	17. Jaime Wants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime _wants_ wants Brienne. She issues an ultimatum to get him to see reason.

Having had very little sleep due to their extended sheet play the night before and waking up early, Jaime and Brienne spent the rest of the afternoon sunk in the deepest dreams. Rain continued to fall in heavy, fat drops for the rest of the day.

The silence reached Brienne first. Her eyes opened, blue and clear, blinking rapidly as she adjusted to her darker surroundings. She let herself get acclimated to other sensations in the tent: the heat of Jaime’s heavy leg thrown over hers, the thermal blanket that bared her from the waist up, the drop in the temperature. She didn’t move, wondering when was the last time she had heard quiet like this, a world so quiet she heard only her heartbeat and Jaime breathing.

She was careful to turn in his arms. His arm was lifted quickly by her hand and that tiny margin of time gave her the chance to make a quick turn, but not so sudden or too sharp he’d been bouncing on the mattress their sleeping bags were on. Then she returned his hand on the slight dip on her waist, wound her leg between his. Crimson dotted her cheeks when her knee brushed against his erection.

Jaime was often the first to wake up, rousing her with kisses, the gentlest caresses, or when he was feeling naughty, which was most of the time, he pressed his lips between her legs and lapped at her clit. Rarely did she get to just watch him sleep, amused still that an elegant man like Jaime Lannister slept with abandon, almost rudely. He spread his arms and legs on the bed, forcing her to curve her body in the limited space left. When he slept on his side, he pressed himself to her, pinning her on the spot with his arms and legs. Not the most comfortable position when someone was wrapped around you like that but Brienne always slept soundly. 

When they had just started dating, Brienne would find herself waking up at random points during the night, turning to Jaime to believe he was real, that being in bed with him was real. She didn’t do it as much now. At some point she started believing that life with him was not a dream. What she wouldn’t get used to was that somebody wanted her like he did, loved her as much. 

She licked her lips, feeling her entire body go warm. They tingled under the brush of her tongue, still swollen from what had felt like hours of kissing. She thought she was going to regret letting Jaime know about her near-assault. He already knew too much of her past, knew of the hurt that still remained but she knew he had to know the extent of it, how it never completely left her. At first she wished she had kept her mouth shut but as he kissed her, and kissed her, and kissed her until the rest of the world receded and became only the circle of his arms and his taste in her tongue, she felt glad. Brienne wasn’t dramatic as her husband was but as their kiss deepened, thought that if she had to walk through fire and broken glass, as long as she arrived at this moment, then by the Seven, she would do it. Over and over. It meant breaking Wagstaff’s nose repeatedly as well.

Jaime was still fast asleep and remained so even when she extricated his arm from her waist and began to leave their cozy bed. Her shirt and pants were crumpled next to his, the belt still half-on. They were not as damp anywhere but some moisture still clung. But her tank was dry, at least. Brienne buckled on the belt and let herself out of their tent. 

It was still light out but from the angle of the sun, she judged it would be night in a couple of hours. The smell of rain was thick in the air and the current of the river stronger, louder in her ears. Their tent was a good distance away from the river and rocks, a known spot for bugs, flies and what in Jaime’s opinion were the most loathsome creature ever—snakes.

The grass was low on the ground, just barely reaching her ankles, she discovered as she walked around. She would still have to look in their packs and hope there was a spray or chemical deterrent for snakes and bugs. There were no fallen logs, trees were also far enough though she didn’t have to squint to see them. She wanted to look for animal trails, signs that pointed to areas with the best traffic for small game should they need to hunt. The rains have washed them away, pushing back this activity to early tomorrow morning. She wondered if she could delay gathering wood for a few hours as they were still wet or if it was something that should also be left for the next day.

Brienne was kneeling on the ground, surrounded by their bags, the protective plastic sheet that had covered them flung away, when Jaime slipped out of the tent and found her. She looked up as she heard him approach, giving him a small smile before he bent, wrapped a hand around her nape and kissed her. He sat back on his haunches next to her while she continued examining the contents of their bags.

“It’s quiet,” he remarked, looking around.

“I like it,” she said, retrieving packs of rations from one bag. She handed them to him and continued looking. Seeing his, he asked, “What else do you need?”

“I’m looking for a spray, something. It’s so that we don’t have to worry as much about finding a snake snuggled between us in the middle of the night,” Brienne told him, opening a drawstring bag.

“Snakes,” Jaime shook his head. _“I hate snakes.”_

She put a hand on his cheek and he smiled at her. “I know. Help me look?”

They had to look in every bag, unearthing more things such as a change of clothes that would last them a few days, soap, a trowel—“We’ll have to build a compost for our rubbish,” Brienne explained when Jaime looked puzzled—“rope, a knife, utensils and plastic plates. Jaime found a small bottle of Snake Be Gone and Brienne nodded.

“You spray it around our campsite but we still have to be careful when disposing our food. That attracts small animals and where they are, that’s where snakes usually are,” she told him. 

“I think a compost pit sounds risky,” Jaime said.

“I’ll dig far enough. Unless you’d rather we keep our trash in the tent with us?”

“Of course not. Give that trowel over. I’m doing it,” he said, holding out his hand. He pointed. “How about over there?”

“Good enough. Three feet deep should do it.” 

This time, she was the one who kissed him before they went their separate ways—which was less than twenty feet away from each other. As Brienne sprayed Snake Be Gone, Jaime got on his hands and knees and started digging. The earth was soft from the rain. Depth wasn’t the hardest thing, he discovered after a while, but carving out a good sizable hole. His hands were stiff, his wrists were beginning to hurt. As he threw soil over his shoulder, he wondered if his wife could finish this task in half the time. 

He looked up and saw her with a small bunch of sticks in her arms. She was picking them up one by one from the ground, examining each closely. Sometimes she threw one away, sometime she put another in her collection. There was a smear of dirt on her cheek. Sweat fell in streaks from her forehead to her chest. My wife, Jaime thought, hit by a sudden wave of tenderness, the strongest person I know.

As he resumed his task, Brienne deemed there was enough wood for fire. The rations would be warmed in the steel pot they found in their bags. Hardly gourmet but they would be fed and have warm food in their stomachs. She was used to roughing it but not her husband. A grin began to tease at the corners of her lips as she thought about the next few days. Jaime was going to be cranky and start whining from the food they would be eating, yes, but also about he didn’t have his arsenal of hair products. Gods, her husband was so impossible sometimes but she loved him.

She set up the few wood she had gathered, also constructing a makeshift hanger so the pot could be held over the fire. As she checked for the waterproof pack for their tool kit and matches, she heard Jaime approach. She looked up.

And let out a huge, belly laugh.

Jaime’s pants and shirt were covered in dirt, as if he had rolled around in it rather than stay on his knees digging a hole for an hour. He frowned at her laughter but only for a few seconds because she quickly got red and that always made him smile.

“Thank a lot,” he complained before his eyes flashed. Too late did Brienne realize he had something up his sleeve. Suddenly, he was lunging toward her, one hand automatically going around her head and the other wrapping around the middle of her back to cushion her as she fell on the ground with him.

_"Jaime!_ What are you doing!” She shrieked as he started rubbing his dirty face, muddy hands and pants-clad legs on her. 

“Getting my wife dirty,” he growled before claiming her lips in his.

She slapped him on the arm. “Very mature,” she snapped, breaking away from his kiss before dragging his mouth down to hers.  
Their kiss was soft, their hands on each other’s bodies gentle. Jaime rolled to his back so Brienne was on top of him. Her knee rubbed against the hard length of his cock desperate to thrust out of his pants, his hands slipped under her top to rub the bare skin of her back.  
Brienne had just shoved his t-shirt to his neck, her fingers light as the traced his ribs, when a loud growl emanated from his stomach. Jaime laughed against her lips, shaking his head. She buried her face in his neck, her hand still on his stomach as it continued to tremble from hunger. She giggled.

“Let’s get you fed, husband,” she told him, her whisper warm in his ear and making him shiver. 

She started to get up but he yanked her back down. “But I want you _now,_ ” he insisted.

“You’re in no condition to fuck,” she told him firmly, getting to her knees. She offered him a hand and he took it. He sighed loudly as she led him to the rations she had placed by the fire.

“Vegetable and bean burrito, curry, mashed potatoes. . .” He murmured, picking up the packs and reading aloud the food labels. “It’s a gourmet feast,” he said dryly.

“They’re packed with vitamins. Do you want the curry?” Brienne asked, readying the pot.

_“I want you.”_

She rolled her eyes. “Food comes before fucking.”

“ _You_ come before we eat,” he was persistent, putting a hand on her thigh. “Ow!” he protested when she slapped his hand. “You’ve got a heavy hand, wife!”

“Jaime, it’s been hours since we last ate and you almost threw up after the ride. I know how stubborn you are and. . .how determined you are to do. . .what you want.” Brienne was getting redder with every word.

“ _Who_ I want,” Jaime corrected silkily, winking at her. “You know how determined I am to do _who_ I want.”

“Hand over that roast beef,” Brienne ordered, holding out her hand towards the packs close to him. She was failing against the battle of the blush.

“Tell you what,” Jaime, who had been holding out to her, suddenly snatched his hand back. “Why don’t we have a dip in the river? That way we’re clean when we eat.” He wagged his eyebrows at her. 

Brienne narrowed her eyes at him. “We both know that’s another euphemism of yours for fucking.”

“Nah, I don’t do euphemisms. I say exactly what I want. I want to fuck my wife. I want to fuck my wife and make her scream my name. _Now.”_

“Really? How about that time—when we---“ Embarrassment made her stutter but she pushed on. “What about the time you told your father over dinner that I was tired from my flight? Everyone knew what we intended to do, gods. And then that time when you had us skip dessert during dinner with Tyrion and Margaery because of your `headache.’”

Jaime wondered if Brienne was going to go up in flames. She was so red. _So fuckable and so sexy._ He did remember that night. As soon as they were inside the elevator, he had hit the hold button, dropped to his knees before her and pushed her skirt up. Her protests ended in breathless moans and the headiest gasps. 

Jaime grinned. “Your cunt is the ultimate cure for all my ailments. There's also your smile and your eyes, of course.” 

“Jaime, we’re out here. So far, you haven’t done that well. I am not going to carry you if you faint from hunger. We’re eating.”

 _“I want to eat you,”_ he pouted.

“Shut up and give me that pack,” Brienne demanded.

“But don’t you want to get clean first? I dirtied you up. I can scrub your back. Wash your tits.” His voice dropped seductively. _“With my tongue.”_

She was unmoved though her pupils were very black and dilated, slowly taking over the blue and her ears were dark pink. “You forget we’re still going to trek in the night looking for Melisandre. There’s no point in getting clean when we’re going to get dirty again so soon.”

“I’ll make a deal with you,” Jaime said after a moment. He had to resist smacking and licking his lips at his near victory. He readied himself to pounce on her.

“Jaime Lannister, your wife is starving. The Seven help me but if you don’t hand that over soon, you will never, I repeat, _never_ see me naked again.”

He tossed her the pack and she caught it easily. He didn’t want to challenge the steel in her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Food or Brienne?


	18. Grumpy Old Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robert visits Selwyn and Tywin.

For the third time since arriving at Jaime and Brienne’s apartment, Robert frowned. Drew sat on his knee, giving powerful, painful tugs at his hair and smacking him on the chin while Ty was rolling around in the sofa next to him, shouting, “Where’s Joff? Where’s Joff?”

Little monsters, Robert thought, picking Drew off his lap and planting him on the sofa with his brother. Drew decided to leap off and ran to the kitchen instead, where Selwyn was preparing dinner. Soon, Selwyn was cooing at his grandson, in between imploring him to stop unlacing his shoes. Tywin sat on the armchair right across from Robert, his face passive but his green eyes even colder. On the coffee table between them was the package of what Robert had claimed were the stuff Cersei knitted for the twins.

“How is that you’re here rather than with my daughter?” Tywin asked, lounging deep in the seat. In his dark green sweater, black slacks and loafers that cost more than Robert’s monthly salary, he looked out of place in the apartment’s relaxed, comfortable colour scheme of soft creams, pale yellows and chocolate brown. He sat elegantly on the armchair that Robert knew for a fact Jaime had bought from a garage sale for ten silver stags.

“Your daughter told me to bring gifts to our nephews so here I am.” Robert said. He winced as Drew suddenly shot to his feet on the sofa and threw himself in his uncle’s arms.

The aroma of roasting ground meat and spices reached Robert’s nose. “That smells delicious, Selwyn,” he called toward Brienne’s father.  
“Thank you. It’s turkey sliders,” Selwyn explained, his voice gruff.

Something was definitely going on, Robert concluded—yet for the nth time since he made it past the door of the apartment. Selwyn and Tywin were not best friends but they got on civilly, well enough and they could be friendly to each other when needed be. It was something to watch—Selwyn, a stiff military man who was all smiles when it came to his grandsons, and Tywin, who took a while to be comfortable around his grandsons but now smiled more often—but only when they were around.

There was none of that now.

“How are these monsters?” Robert asked, groaning as Drew punched him in the shoulder. 

“Careful,” Tywin snapped.

“Those are my grandsons,” Selwyn added, shooting Robert a glare from the counter.

Robert rolled his eyes. “Ease up, you two. Can’t you take a joke?”

“If you’ve come here to check what a bang-up job we’re doing—“ Tywin began but Robert chuckled.

“Of course not. You really think I’m here to check on you?”

“You’re not known to visit,” Selwyn pointed out.

“I drop by every now and then,” Robert said. “Jaime and I have poker nights.”

The two men seemed to want to look at each other, to signal the other or something but didn’t. Selwyn returned to playing with Drew in the kitchen while Ty started kicking at Robert’s thighs. Fuck the Seven, he thought, the boy kicked like possessed mule. 

“Alright, you two. Something’s happened. I don’t know what it is but I know something’s up,” Robert announced. “My family may be stags but trust me when I tell you I can sniff blood from ten miles away. Out with it. Where’s the dead body?”

“What do you mean?” Selwyn asked just as Tywin said, “There’s no dead body.”

“No dead body. Please!” Robert complained. “You’re acting like something’s happened, which means something’s wrong. Dead wrong. So whatever is going on, you might as well tell me rather than either Cersei or Tyrion finding out and narcing you on Jaime and Brienne. Tyrion especially. I would swear to the Seven your son has surveillance cameras and bugs everywhere the way he always knows things. And— _Seven Hells!_ ” He growled in pain as Ty slammed his fist down his cock.

“Language, Robert!” Tywin warned him, rising from the chair to get Ty away from him. Peering at Robert’s face twisted in pain, he demanded, “Did you teach my grandsons that lovely vocabulary? Where they took delight in calling me an ass?”

Booming laughter came from Selwyn. “Hells, Robert, did you?”

“What? Of course not!” The mystery had never been solved. It wasn’t only Tywin that the Lannister twins took delight in calling an ass but he got more than his fair share of it. Brienne had imposed a cursing lockdown around the children and came up with the blasted swear jar. Cersei had the most contribute but she denied providing her nephews that _delightful_ instruction.

Robert watched wearily as Drew and Ty were placed in their play area by Selwyn and Tywin. The two men shot each other a whithering look before returning to their respective areas in the apartment—Selwyn in the kitchen, Tywin to his chair. Robert looked helplessly at the twins. The boys were a handful—they were not brats although they had an affinity for shoelaces and hitting people—but still, you had to be on your feet around them. He wondered how he could raise twins at his age. He and Cersei were not that young. The fact that they were having a boy and a girl was wonderful—he was secretly pleased about the girl because his nephews had shown that twin boys were more than twice the challenge.

A girl sweetened things somewhat. But then, daughters tend to take after their mothers, he thought, realizing. This pregnancy had made Cersei’s mood swings more erratic than usual that it seemed all the Seven was in her. On a normal day, she was demanding. Robert couldn’t imagine a daughter just as demanding as his wife. Or as insane. Thank the gods Joff was more into books than horsing around—basically a quiet child. Where he got that from Robert had no idea. But he was grateful.

“Out with it, gents,” Robert said to Selwyn and Tywin. “Better I find out or Cersei or Tyrion or worse, Jaime or Brienne. I don’t think either of you would like to face Brienne when she finds out whatever it is.” Robert loved Brienne because she was the only one to put the genuine fear of the Seven in Tywin’s cold heart—wherever it was.

Selwyn started humming as he continued working in the kitchen. Tywin glanced at him then at Robert. “We had a tiff.”

Robert cocked an eyebrow. “A tiff.”

“A spat, if you will.”

“I’m not here to play Thesaurus with you, Tywin.”

“A tiff. A spat, he says.” Selywn mocked. “Do you know what he told me? He said that my daughter is only a teacher. And he intends to manipulate her to get to Jaime so that Jaime will work for him. Oh, and before I forget, he believes her to be a very efficient brood mare with, how did you say it, Tywin? I believe it was something like Jaime `getting twins out of her.’ My daughter. A respected professor is only a brood mare for Tywin here.”

Robert shot Tywin an appalled look. “Fuck me, so Cersei wasn’t exaggerating.”

“I won’t apologize for being traditional,” Tywin said. “I believe women should stay at home, raise the children, while the husband works and secures their life.”

“Holy Seven Hells, Tywin. If your daughter were here she’d probably stab you with her knitting needles.” Robert shook his head disbelievingly. “That’s not being traditional. If I have to say it, then you have no idea what a jackass you are. For crying out loud, your daughter is a chief resident. She’s not just a doctor, you fool. She’s a chief resident. She worked hard to get where she is, just as Brienne did.”

“Work and work.” Tywin spat. “What has that brought? None of my children wish to have anything to do with me or the company or our legacy. If you had your own firm, Robert, Cersei wouldn’t have to work—“

“On the contrary, she still will and I expect her to. Hells, I certainly expect her to contribute. Baratheons are rich but it's work that keeps us so. I'm not as rich as your daughter but she expects to earn her own money.”

“Brienne’s the only one who has any appreciation for family and legacy.” Tywin shot Selwyn a look. “She certainly didn’t get it from you. But this teaching thing, really, you believe this to be a permanent thing? Sooner or later, she’ll have to stay home with the children. It’s disgraceful that she who goes off to work while my son stays at home. A slacker Lannister. Who would have thought.”

“If that’s what Brienne wants then she will. But I don’t think she does, and I don’t think Jaime would let her either. Unlike you, you _moronic, graying idiot,_ your son respects and appreciates what my daughter has accomplished. And Jaime’s not lazing around. He owns the company. “

“Yes, but does he still report daily?”

“It’s a temporary thing until they find a nanny.” Robert pointed out. 

“Even that Margaery!” Tywin continued. “I thought Olenna taught her the importance of being a woman, of being a mother. But no. She’s going about those slum areas with my grandchild in her belly. She should be at home! And that daughter of mine--”

“Careful, now. That’s my wife you’re talking about.” Robert warned him, his blue eyes darkening. “Cersei and Margaery are a lot more capable than you think. Being pregnant is not being sick where you’re on your ass all day. It’s not a hindrance, definitely not for my wife and Margaery. That shouldn’t stop them from pursuing normal lives and doing what they want.”

“Oh? So you have no concern of how the Baratheons would be a thousand years from now?”

“Either we’ve gone extinct or still own the vineyard. Those are the only likely possibilities, isn’t it? Besides, that has never concerned me. My father, yes, that’s why he had Renly up there. But if the Baratheon name dies out or not in a thousand years, why should that bother me? I’d be dead by then. You too.”

Silence hung heavily in the air at Robert’s last two words. He wasn’t going to apologize. Tywin should apologize. It was a miracle Selwyn had not put his ham-sized fist to his face for that remark about Brienne. 

“You are going to fix this.” Robert told them as he got up from his seat. “This isn’t good at all and I don’t want to leave until this is done but Tywin, your daughter, my wife, is waiting for me. She expects me to bring her home a bloody Manderly steak. She’s not the most fun person around being pregnant with twins and she’s crankier than usual and she’s tired from work. But you know what? When I get home, I’m going to feed her. I’m going to massage her feet, if she’ll let me. And as she complains about idiot patients and more idiotic hospital administrators, not only will I listen but I will tell her to keep doing what she’s doing. I’m proud of her. And I’m fucking proud to be her husband. She’s done so much considering she got almost no support from you. Selwyn, good luck with my monster nephews.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At last! I have an update! 
> 
> I apologize for staying away from this for so long. Lots of things happened. Mostly fantastic things. Then I also finished some new series, wrote new stuff. I was stuck after the last chapter and didn't know how to go on. Once again, it's been proven that when I leave it be and turn my attention to other things, the solution would present itself. Boy, it sure did. 
> 
> Updating will still be slow but I can guarantee it won't take as long as it did before this one. My works are unbeta'd. I haven't asked anyone to be my beta yet because I'm shit with deadlines and that's plain embarrassing. Thank you for reading and for your comments!


	19. Questions and Answers (Part II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst, feelings and fluff up ahead.

As the sun started to sink in the horizon, Jaime sat back, leaning on his elbows, his long legs stretched before him and crossed at the ankle. Brienne sat with her chin resting on her knees, looking soft and pensive. A small fire was between them.

They had just polished off the first of their rations, bean burritos. For Brienne to warm them without distraction, she sent Jaime to the river to gather water. He had pretended to sulk at not getting to fuck his wife but he was grinning inwardly. He enjoyed teasing her, although he did want her and would be more than glad to take her in the tent or wherever she wished, as long as he had her. 

“We don’t have to get to Melisandre for a couple of hours,” Jaime said, running a hand through his hair. He looked at his hand in distaste. The combination of sweat and products in his hair had made it sticky and stiff. He wiped his palm on his pants before he stretched out fully on the ground with a sigh. Glancing at Brienne, he said suggestively, “What do you think we should do in the meantime, hmm, wife?”

Brienne’s expression was bland. “Oh. I don’t know. We can relax. We’re set up, anyway. If it wasn’t dark I’d teach you to catch fish.”

“I’d much rather do something. . .less tedious. But no less educational.”

“Well. . .” was his wife adorably clueless or torturing him? “We’re not done with the questionnaire.” She pulled folder from under her. 

He turned to her, lying on his side with his chin propped up one hand. “Is there a deadline to that? I thought that’s something for the entire camping.” He patted the space beside him. “Come on. Get over here. It’s getting a little cold.”

This time, she frowned at him. “Jaime, I’m not. . .we are not going to fuck on the ground, for Gods’ sake.”

“You get to be on top,” he offered.

“No. I want us to finish the questionnaire. It’s important.”

His wife could be as stubborn as he was—and sometimes, a lot more. Once she had that look in her amazingly blue eyes, when she spoke in that tone, there was no stopping her, least of all Jaime. He sighed and flopped on his back.

“Alright. But we’re not doing that with you all the way there. I want to hold my wife.”

“What’s wrong with where I am?” She asked.

“You’re not relaxed,” Jaime pointed out. He held out his arm to her. “Come.”

“You get over here. I’m closer to the fire.” Brienne told him. He smiled at her and rolled toward her. “Better?”

Brienne nodded and lay down beside him. She put her head on his chest and bent her leg, her knee resting on his thigh. Jaime kissed her on the forehead as she opened the folder. 

“I went first the last time. It’s your turn,” she said.

Over her hair, Jaime read aloud the first question he saw. “`What do you need from me right now?’”

“Hmm.” Brienne was throughtful. “That’s not an easy question.”

“No, it’s not.” Jaime agreed. He read further down the list. “Do you want to go the next?”

“No. I’m going to answer it. That’s what these questions are for. And we are finishing this.” Brienne said determinedly, drawing a chuckle from Jaime. She laughed along with him.

“There’s my bull-headed wife,” he said approvingly, tightening his arm around her. 

“I guess what I need from you right now is more patience than you’ve already given,” Brienne admitted, looking at him. “I know you are more than willing to stay at home with our sons until we find a nanny and that means a lot—a lot more than you think, Jaime. But my tenure is coming up. KLU is putting more responsibilities on me and I’m going to be home later and later. I don’t like it. I don’t like being away longer than I should be from you and the boys. I don’t like asking more from you. But until we know if I have tenure or not, the next few months are going to be like that.”

“It’s not the best situation,” Jaime admitted after a long silence. He had to let her admission sink in first. As he mulled it over, Brienne had clutched at his shirt, tensing. Now, he uncoiled her fingers from it, straightening them and threading his fingers in between. “But it’s not a nightmare. This is your dream, Brienne. I won’t stop you from getting it by complaining how I’m always the one stuck with our sons and the like. I understand it—it doesn’t mean I’m going to be a total saint about the whole thing so I hope you don’t expect me to be one.”

“No.” Brienne shook her head. “No.”

Jaime looked into her eyes. “I’m glad you appreciate me and recognize the sacrifices I’ve made. But I don’t take them against you—I’m certainly not stacking them up and expecting you to repay at some point—“

“Oh, but I will. I will, Jaime, you have my word.”

“But I don’t expect that at all. When I do things for you, I don’t expect repayment. I do them because I want to and I support you. However, since we’re being honest now, I do have to warn you that I’m going to be a grouch until your tenure is finalized. I don’t like being away from you longer than necessary either.”

“We don’t do it as often as we used to,” Even in the growing darkness, her cheeks flared a deep scarlet. “I miss that.”

“Wife, considering that we fuck on average of four times a week, we’re in a lot better shape than most couples. But yes. I also miss that we don’t fuck as often anymore.” His grin was so naughty she had to look away. She whispered his name urgently when he suddenly rolled over, pinning her beneath him. His name fell from her lips again before he kissed her ardently, resting heavily on her. This close to Brienne, he could smell the blush rising from the pores of her skin. The warmth gave an extra punch to her fading vanilla scent, her unique musk that made his head spin. 

Suddenly, he pulled away. She blinked up at him, startled.

His breath was a little unsteady. “We have a questionnaire to finish.”

She nodded.

“For the record, as tempted as I am to fuck you right now, I was not going to. I know finishing the questionnaire is important..” 

“Thank you, Jaime.” She was grateful.

He lay back beside her. Brienne sat up, reaching for the folder. “Um, it’s your turn, husband. What do you need from me right now?”

“You know, I’m going to sound like a selfish, demanding asshole,” Jaime told her with a sigh. He looked at her. “Patience is all you need from me? You’re sure? That’s what makes you a good person. You ask for so little. You should demand more because you fucking deserve everything.”

“I only ask what I need.” Her smile was gentle as she brushed a lock of his hair away from his forehead. “Come on. It’s your turn.”

“Here it is.” Jaime stacked his hands under his head, looking at the approaching night sky. “Rather, here they are. In no particular order, I want more time with you. Just you. The sex is _un-fucking-believable_ —it really is.” In spite of another heat wave going through Brienne, she couldn’t stop the smile teasing at the corners of her lips at his awed voice. “However, it seems the only time we have for each other is fucking. We hardly have time to do stuff with just each other.” His eyes slid to her. “You know what I mean?”

Brienne nodded. “I miss when it’s just us too.”

“Can you remember the last time we went out to dinner without the boys or without family or without friends? When was the last time we actually went out for an R-rated film rather than downloading it? Or when we just hung out. You know. In bed. Or on the couch.”

“We used to go out for breakfast every Sunday,” Brienne added wistfully. “We’d wake up early to run and then breakfast at World of Pancakes.”

Jaime reached for her hand. “That’s one of the things I will always need, wife. Time for us.”

“We’ll have to work at it. And I agree. We have to put our ourselves first every now and then.”

“Which brings me to the next thing I need from you.” Jaime grunted as he sat up. “I need you to learn how to relax. I don’t know how the academe works, Brienne, but I do know how nerve-wracking it can be when you’re so close to getting what you want and then real life comes at you non-stop. I need you to realize that you deserve a break once in a while. Worry, but not so much all the time. You’re great, you work hard, your students love you. You’ve placed high in evaluations consistently. You’ll get tenure. I’ll make you a deal. I’ll be patient with you if you’ll be patient with yourself.”

Brienne sighed as he put his arm around her shoulders. “I’ll try, husband.”

Jaime shrugged nonchalantly. “Fucking relaxes you.” He chuckled as she dug her elbow at his ribs. 

“And lastly—“

Brienne sighed dramatically. “There’s more?”

Jaime flushed. “I did warn you.”

She kissed him on the cheek. “Just giving you a hard time.”

“Okay, this one. . .” Jaime took a deep breath and looked at her. Brienne found herself straightening up. As the golden light of their flames fell on Jaime, she thought he looked like a solemn knight, one who would die for his sacred vows. 

“Brienne, I understand how you feel about this. And I have not changed my mind. I fully support you. But.” Jaime shut his eyes briefly before opening them again. He swallowed hard. “I need you to be open to the idea. . .of having another child.” 

There. He’d said it. His arm still around her, he felt the tension that suddenly grabbed at her shoulders. Jaime willed Brienne to look at him but she kept her eyes on the ground. She was stubborn. 

When he removed his arm from her, she turned those breathtaking blues to him.

“If you’re angry,” Jaime told her, “tell me now.”

“I-I don’t know.” Brienne looked away then back at him. 

“I only need you to be more open to the idea. I’m not saying we ought to try soon.”

“Jaime, I don’t know.”

Jaime took the folder from her and scrolled down with his finger. “There’s a question here that asks how I express my anger and conflict. I’m not angry with your uncertainty. Never. But this is me being honest, saying that while I do support that you don’t want another child right away, I do wish that you’ll at least be open to the idea someday.”

“I’m not angry if that’s what you’re asking,” Brienne protested.

“I didn’t know how you’d react. What happened at Casterly Rock. . .well, that’s why we’re here. Talk to me, Brienne.”

“That’s a lot to take in, Jaime. Not everyone has a built-in smart remark.”

“I’m not asking you to be smart. I want you to tell me how you feel about what I just said.”

“What’s there for me to say? Either way, you’ll hold me to it.”

“What are you talking about?” Jaime was baffled.

“If I tell you I can’t commit to a deadline as to when I’ll be open about it, you’re going to try and wheedle me into giving a time frame. If I tell you okay, I can do that, be open to the idea, we both know you’ll be dragging me back to the tent before. Am I right or am I right?”

“Hey. Wife, I fucking you is my favorite thing but I can control myself. And I won’t be doing any of those things. I thought,” Jaime swallowed, “I thought you believed me a better man.”

“You are. But are we really talking about this?”

“Isn’t that why we’re out here freezing our asses off?”

“Come closer to the fire.” Brienne shifted.

“I want to make it clear that I’ll never ask you to choose between your career and family. That’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it? That I’m just like Tywin.” 

“ _No!_ Jaime, I would _never_ think that.”

They looked at each other. 

“Given a range from one to fifteen, where do you fall under the idea of having more children?” Jaime asked, bracing himself for her answer.

Brienne hung her head. “Seven point five.”

“What? You can’t give half and half answers.”

“Well that’s how I feel. You tell me to tell you what I think and when I do it turns out I failed fulfilling some blasted criteria. Why don’t you tell me how you want me to answer and I’ll tell you exactly what I think about that.” Brienne started to rise but Jaime clamped a heavy hand down her shoulder.

“You’re not walking away, Brienne. I _hate_ it when you do.” He said, keeping her pinned by his side. “And I’m not. . .I don’t expect you to answer a certain way nor do I intend to revise it. I want honesty from you.”

“Wasn’t it already?” Brienne demanded. “Jaime, I really don’t know. Look how we’re struggling with just Drew and Ty. We hardly have time for each other anymore except. . .” She blushed and glared at him. “You know what I mean. What if we have more children but we grow apart?”

Jaime rolled his eyes. “Who knows how many times we’ve fucked. I saw you give birth to our sons. I was there. And you still can’t say sex? Or fuck? You said cunt today.”

“It’s not really appropriate to the discussion.” She pointed out, blushing furiously.

“Brienne, the only thing inappropriate with regards to your husband is when you withhold. In any way. I don’t want you shying away. I don’t want you worrying about what I’ll think. I love you. I married you. There’s nothing you can say or do that will make me leave.”

“And if I tell you no more children—that won’t send you running off?”

“No, damn it. I’d be disappointed. I’ll be angry. But it’s not unforgivable. I won’t leave this marriage. You think I’ll let you go because of a difference in opinion?”

“One partner wanting something completely different is not the same as preferring muesli to cornflakes, Jaime.”

“No, it isn’t. What I meant was there’s nothing you can do that would even make me think of leaving.”

“But—“ Brienne was stunned. Faltering, she murmured, “Jaime. . .what if? What—what if I don’t want—what if it’s only Drew and Ty?”

“I told you. I’ll be disappointed and angry. But I’ll honor your decision.”

“And what of yours? Because by refusing I’m not honoring what you want. We don’t know how long you’ll be angry. It will drive us apart. Are you telling me you still won’t leave?”

“Fuck, Brienne. You’re such an idiot sometimes.” Jaime growled. “Is it still not clear to you? I love you, you obstinate fool. I can’t fucking live without you and I fucking don’t want to know life without you. Yes, if that’s your decision, I might be angry for a long time and it will drive us apart but only for a while. A while, wife. _Because I will fight for this marriage._ Even when you don’t want what I want, I will fight to be with you. There. That clear enough for you? Or do you want a fucking list? Must I provide you with a fucking diagram?”

In response to his passionate rant, Brienne threw back her head and laughed.

And laughed. 

“You will fucking kill me, Brienne!” Jaime roared as he tackled her to the ground. Brienne continued to laugh, sending rich peals to the sky, echoing throughout the forest. 

She smiled up at him. Despite the darkness and the pale light of the fire, her eyes were brilliant and tender. She played with the buttons of his shirt and he pulled her hand away. Undeterred, she remained flat on her back, staring at her disgruntled husband. No other choice there. He still lay on top of her. Again, she put her hand on him, this time on his cheek. Jaime closed his eyes, unable to resist the pleasure of her touch and held it there. He then looked at her.

"I love you too, you beautiful, golden fool.” Brienne whispered. 

"Brienne." Her name was rough from his lips. 

Then she pulled him down for a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brienne in the canon DOES NOT walk away from a fight. From Jaime's reaction in this modern AU, she has the tendency to retreat or sulk away. Unlike Jaime who likes things to be dealt with right then (there's nothing wrong with that) and there, Brienne prefers to step back and think (which isn't wrong either). This makes her a bit more strategic and cool-headed than her husband, who is the type to bring the fight to whoever's on the other end of it. Much like Jaime in the canon, I suppose. I have not read the books so I might be wrong. 
> 
> Please comment! I'd love to hear from you. :-)


	20. Sometimes I Want To Punch You In The Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some smut. A part of this chapter sets up some events in Meet Me at Midnight, a collection of unrelated ficlets of the.series. And no, it's not what you think!

“Gods. Jaime, I can’t believe you did that!” Brienne groaned. Red from her hairline to chest, she chased her next breath, her lungs feeling tight and tensed. She was wrung out—her soul had been torn out of her, she was sure—and all she could do was lie on her back with her arms and legs flopped uselessly to the sides. She could only raise her wrist halfway, not close enough to make out the time in her watch.

Jaime, flushed and looking too smug for his own good, grinned at her. His head rested on her stomach. His face shone with sweat and his lips and chin were slick with her juices. She muttered something about him being an impossible man as she slapped him weakly on the head.

“Ouch. That’s the thanks I get?” Jaime exclaimed. 

“We didn’t finish the questionnaire.”

“Your fault, wife. You commanded me to fuck you. Repeatedly.” He laughed as Brienne tried to hit him again. He caught her hand and kissed it. He sucked her fingertips before resuming kissing them. Her heart races at the clear pleasure on his face.

“You didn’t fuck me at all.” She affected dissatisfaction.

“Aren’t you glad I didn’t? If I did neither of us would be able to stand.”

With Jaime looking so pleased with himself, Brienne was tempted to either punch him in the face or fuck him in the face. Her body, still heavy from the hard orgasms Jaime had drawn from her, could barely manage to roll over, let alone get up. Her face heated further as she remembered his tongue burrowing deep in her cunt, fucking her wetly with it. Or his fingers pumping deep and hard in her, the slickness of her walls easing their passage. 

“Time.” She held her wrist to him. “Tell me. Damn it, you tired me out, Lannister.”

“You’re welcome.” Jaime turned her wrist to face him. “It’s six-thirty. How far is this Melisandre?”

“A two-hour walk. But with the dark and the trails, it might take us longer.” Brienne bent her legs, trying to rise. When Jaime didn’t move, she growled, “Lannister, remove yourself from between my thighs. Now.”

Chuckling again, Jaime obeyed her. He rose to his knees, remaining between her legs as he zipped up his pants. Brienne licked her lips longingly as she stated at his spent clock, his semen drying on his thighs. He was still wearing his t-shirt, now marked with sweat marks under the sleeves. His stare was unapologetically lascivious looking down at her deeply pink thighs and the damp curls guarding the swollen lips of her cunt. Brienne wanted to curl up in a heap as he grinned at her before pulling her up. 

Brienne was fully nude except for the socks that Jaime had inexplicably left on her feet. Her legs were still a little unsteady but she forced herself back into her pants, stumbling. The rough crotch of the denim rubbed against her still-tender cunt, introducing a new world of sensations with every step she took. She shot Jaime an exasperated look but his back faced her as he put on his jacket. She slipped on her tank, breathing sharply as the cotton tickled her still-red nipples. Blushing hard, she jerked on her shirt and zipped her jacket up to her throat. 

“Shoes, wife,” Jaime held out her boots to her. Brienne murmured her thanks and put them on.

When she straightened up, he pulled her by the waist, angled her chin toward him and kissed her. Her mouth quickly opened at the gentle press of his lips, allowing him to taste herself still thick on his tongue. Her cheeks grew warmer as she licked him back. She’d die first before she confessed to developing a secret kink of tasting herself from him. Though bittersweet, she could understand why he enjoyed going down on her. She whimpered against his tongue as his hand cupped her breast hard through her shirt. 

“If Melisandre sets us on fire for not finishing the questionnaire, I’ll take her down and you run away as fast as you can,” he joked against her lips before setting her away from him. But he still kept an arm around her waist while his hand caressed her stomach under her shirt.

“Oh? And why am I the one who leaves you while you stay to fight?”

Jaime grinned. “I protect what’s mine, wife.”

She tilted her chin up at him, unnecessary though it was because of her height advantage. “So do I, husband. You need someone to help you get rid of the body.”

“Ah, only my wife describing a murder could be huge turn-on.” 

“Impossible man,” she scolded, ruffling his hair. 

She turned away and took the map while he got their flashlights. “Show me where we’re going,” Jaime told her. Nodding, she got on her knees and unrolled the map. He sat down beside her.

With her finger, she tracked on the map where they were going. She told him about having to do some climbing, like they did earlier when they first set for camp. He would ask her to clarify a point or two, pointing to a section of the map. On their way out of the tent, she checked her pocket for the compass. They sealed their tent tight, making sure no animal big or small would be lying in wait for them and embarked on their first visit to Melisandre.

They headed west, Brienne leading the way. 

As they walked, they started talking. Brienne missed their sons and hoped their fathers were not too tired taking care of the energetic twins. Jaime missed them too and suggested that when the twins were older, he’d like it if they went camping. 

From talk of their boys, they talked about work. Addam, according to Jaime, had landed LSM Creatives the Stormlands Travel Bureau account, billing at two million golden dragons. The bureau wanted to go all out with promoting the region known for thirty-foot waves, crushing storms and rip-trees-off-the-ground winds. “How do you market a place that’s basically a no-fly zone for four months of the year?” Jaime wondered aloud.

“Maybe your target market should be extreme adventures sort,” Brienne suggested. “You know, people who paraglide or whatever for fun. People who get a kick out of swimming with sharks.”

“That’s not a bad idea at all. Hey, that can work. Thanks, wife.”

Brienne turned to look behind her to wink at him. “I am with the PhD after all.”

Jaime smirked and grabbed her. Her squawk upset some birds who have bedded for the night on a tree. They flew away in a wild panic. “Jaime, what the hell—oh. _Oh._ ”

Brienne shivered as Jaime nuzzled her neck. In the darkness, he boldly palmed her breasts under her shirt. Sighing deeply, she leaned against his chest heavily, trembling as he plucked at her nipples. His erection pressed against her backside.

“I have a PhD just for you, wife. A pretty huge—“ He started to tease her.

“Don’t you say it, Lannister.”

But she didn’t tell him to stop. Probably because she was still wrapped in the haze of their fevered encounter just over an hour ago, she turned in his arms, grabbed him by the jaw and buried her tongue in his mouth. Jaime’s grunt of surprise was wonderful, but his arms going around her was better. Way better.

Brienne breathed in the combined scent of her husband’s sweat, faint aftershave and soap, along with pungent scent of earth and leaves still moist from the rain. The wind was a gentle whisper at her nape. As the trees rustled above them so did their clothes, canvass and cotton brushing against each other, buttons and zippers catching.

 _“My Jaime.”_ Her voice was husky with carnal need. This time, she was the one to suck at the tip of his ear, to press the softest kisses on his closed eyelids before her lips traced the powerful outline of his jaw. She dropped the map and her flashlight to the ground as she pulled at his belt and started unbuckling it.

“Wife.” Jaime sounded shocked and pleased at the same time. “Brienne. _Brienne._ Are you sure—we’re going to be late?”

She immediately dropped her hand. Suddenly anxious, she asked, “Do you want me to stop?”

Jaime’s stare seared her like lasers. _“Fuck, no.”_

His flashlight trailed after hers on the ground, their golden beams criss-crossing. Jaime bent to scoop her up by the back of her legs and Brienne quicky jumped up, her arms wrapping around his shoulders. Soon her back met the rough, wide bark of a tree but she hardly noticed it in the heat of their kiss. The ridges of the tree dug against her skin as he pressed there so he could pull a nipple in his mouth. She held his head to her breasts, her rich moans meeting his wet, loud suckling.

As they fumbled frantically with each other’s belts and zippers, they realized at the same time just exactly how their clothes, their boots, would be hampering them. 

Though loathed to end their kiss but needing Jaime so much, too much, Brienne turned and got on her hands and knees. She was impatiently pushing her pants down as Jaime dropped behind her, between her legs. The cold metal buckle of his belt slapped her briefly on the ass, making her jump. As he apologized gruffly, he finished lowering his pants and grabbed her hips.

Brienne was still wet from their earlier encounter and had gotten wetter with her pants rubbing at her curls and hyper-sensitive skin as she walked. Jaime’s fingers gripped her hard, startled at how easily he entered her, at how slick she was. Together, they started moving, having long memorized the dance of their bodies yet somehow never finding it predictable. 

“Jaime,” she moaned as he dropped a kiss between her shoulder blades, at the side of her neck in between thrusts, as he squeezed her breasts. “Jaime.” 

Fucking in the silver darkness was almost a new experience for them. Jaime didn’t like it when she would turn off the lights when he took her as he wanted to see her, to look into her eyes as she came undone. Brienne was touched that he wanted to fuck her in sunlight, in moonlight, in the pink-orange light between day and night. Tonight, it was in the near-total darkness of the forest, the thick canopy of trees only allowing the thinnest, palest sliver of the moon to fall over them. Barely being able to see intensified the sensations they aroused in each other.

Jaime, eyes closed and mouth half-parted as he lost himself in the warmth of his wife, groaned, “I’m close. Gods, Brienne, are you close?” His entire body was a tight coil, the veins in his neck straining and thick.

“I—almost—Jaime. Jaime. _Please._ Take me there.” Brienne begged, her head dipping low, her spine curving in a beautiful bow that was graceful in the almost-light of the moon over them.

She threw back her head with a cry as his fingers slipped between her soaked folds, seeking her swollen nub. Once finding it, he circled his fingers there, scratching it lightly with a fingernail that pulled another cry from her. Her hips pumping frantically against him now, he had to hold on to her, his hand on her hip sure to leave bruises there, his fingers on her clit desperate to bring her over the edge. Her eyes were squeezed shut, violent puffs of air exiting her mouth at the mad pace of their fucking, at how huge he felt inside her that she was sweating from the effort of letting him in. 

“Brienne, I need you to come. Now,” Jaime pleaded, stroking her desperately. He was sweating heavily from the massive control he had exerted on himself. His sweat poured down his.cheeks and splashed on her back.

“More. More. _Harder._ More. . .oh gods. _Oh!_ ” Brienne suddenly stiffened before she gave in to the storm unleashed in her body. Her nails dug against the earth as she threw herself toward her climax, feeling her body soaring through the sky, right by the moon. When she shouted his name, Jaime soon followed her, pumping wildly in her until he groaned and collapsed heavily on top of her. Her arms gave out and she fell, taking him with her. The hard, heavy press of his body was pushing her deep to the.ground but she liked it.

Their pants were very loud in the quiet of the forest. As Brienne sighed contentedly, Jaime kissed random freckles on her back. He was now only half-hard but still in her. She mewled in protest when he pulled out and he patted her firm rump lightly before collapsing on his back next to her.  
Brienne turned to face him, grimacing as a fat beam of light from the flashlight burned straight into her eyes. 

Jaime, still catching his breath, could only pull her to his chest so she could hide her drowsy blues there from the glare. He turned on his side to better shield her. Then his lips found hers, thicker and swollen. Brienne clung to him, ignoring the zipper of his jacket rasping at her nipples. 

Their jackets were halfway down their arms, some of the buttons from Jaime’s shirt loosened from their holes, Brienne’s completely open though her tank was rucked high on her chest, baring her breasts. Their pants were puddled around their ankles, tangled around their boots. They looked ridiculous but felt too good to be bothered by it—or start fixing themselves up. Brienne was the one to end the kiss, bringing her teeth down to his lip in a gentle, playful bite. Jaime played with a corkscrew lock of her hair.

“I thought we weren’t going to fuck on the ground,” Jaime couldn’t resist teasing her once his heart rate slowed down.

“I changed my mind. Can’t I do that?” He held her fast as she started kissing his chest. She circled his nipple, humming as he thrust against her.

“Wife, must I remind you that we’re going to be late if you keep doing that?”

“Hmm. You can.” Then Brienne fell on her back, looking up at the sky. “You know, there’s something. . .really satisfying about. . .doing it. . .outside of the bedroom.”

“It’s fucking arousing. I’ve been telling you and telling you.”

“I wasn’t really into. . .I wasn’t into sex until you.”

Jaime snorted. “That’s not surprising. I’m a lion, after all.”

Brienne gave him a side-eye. “An aging lion.”

“Hah! That’s not what you were thinking just a little while ago.”

Her husband was an arrogant ass. Still, it was part of him. One of those annoying parts but if he wasn’t, Brienne mused, he wouldn’t be Jaime. Still, she pinched him on the arm and he yelped, laughing. 

“What I was trying to say is I didn’t. . .I didn’t imagine it could be like this, Jaime. That it’s so good and makes me. . .curious. About things. I never expected that.”

“We’re a good fit, you and I.” When Brienne raised her eyebrows, Jaime quickly added, “I didn’t mean it in my usual, innuendo-laced way, wife. I think it’s because…well, I can’t explain it all that well—“

“Whoo-hoo. Jaime Lannister unable to explain things. Who knew there would come a day when words fail you? Jaime swatted her playfully on the butt. She retaliated with a pinch on his.’

“Alright. I’ll let that pass for my crack earlier. But things have always been. . .incendiary between us, isn’t it? Wife, we fucked all night and the morning after and then I hoisted my miserable family on you before our first date.”

“You ever wondered why that is? Has there been anything like that with your. . .other relationships?”

It probably wasn’t the best time to ask Jaime this question. There was no good time, Brienne thought. And it made things more awkward with their come still drying between her thighs. She bit her lip, a small flare of realization suggesting a complication.

Jaime was quiet for a moment then said, “No.”

Brienne frowned. That was surprising. Catching her reaction, Jaime said, “Really. Nothing close to what we have. Or to you.”

“I didn’t expect that,” she admitted.

"I knew we were going to be together from the moment you sang The Bear And The Maiden Fair and hit me with your shoe. Those legs, wife. Fuck. They’re crazy-long. Couldn’t get them out of my mind. I was looking for you for you for the shoe but I wanted you then.” He grinned at warmth from her face pressing against him. “Then your eyes, of course.”

“Your undoing,” she whispered, remembering his words from their very first night.

“In the best possible way,” he assured her. “I think that’s why we’re so good together. It’s because you believe in me. We believe in each other. It helps that you’re unbelievably, breathtakingly sexy,” he added, enjoying the increasing warmth of her face pressed against him. “But how we see each other clearly yet very humanly makes us such a good fit. It’s a huge part of it.”

Brienne turned the words over in her mind, chewing on her lip as she did. Jaime just held her, leaving her with her own thoughts. But the wind picking up and rustling the leaves scattered on the ground drew a shiver from her, from the cold this time. Rubbing her back, Jaime asked, “How far are we, wife?”

“About an hour before I seduced you. We’re already late.” Brienne stared up at him. “Sorry.”

“Never apologize for seducing your husband.” Jaime said with a soft smile she had come to learn was only for her.

They lay quietly for a few more minutes before slowly, they sat up. They straightened their clothes and dusted themselves off. They picked up their discarded things, smiling at each other.

As they continued their way, they joked about possible excuses for their late arrival. Laughter and indignant protests trailed after them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TYPING and uploading from my phone so I apologize for the errors. Will fix this as soon as my computer recovers from its hangover.


	21. It's Easy To Tell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Melisandre's observations of the Lannisters.

Melisandre didn’t have to take a good, close look of the Lannisters to know the reason behind their late arrival. Leaves and twigs decorated Brienne’s hair, her fingernails lined with dirt and her palms dusty. One side of Jaime’s hair was flat and the knees of his pants were dark with dirt. But it was the look on their faces that gave them away first. Their clothes were rumpled and it was clear they had dressed hurriedly in the dark. Their buttons weren’t in their assigned holes so their shirts hung crookedly. 

Brienne’s blue eyes were soft and had a sleepy look about them. Despite the deepening chill of the evening her cheeks were red and her lips were clearly swollen, and gleamed. Jaime looked relaxed, one side of his mouth quirked in a grin that was the picture of masculine satisfaction. 

Melisandre, huddled in a heavy, fleece-lined jacket despite the fires surrounding them, smiled. So far, the Lannisters were turning out to be easy though highly unusual clients. Sex was clearly not a problem for them and from the way Jaime put his arm around Brienne asking if she was warm and she in turn inquiring if he was okay indicated they prioritized each other. 

“So. Have you guys settled in yet?” Melisandre asked them.

It was Brienne who answered. Against the fires, her pale hair looked like the faint brush of gold. Her bright blue eyes reflected the orange fire. The effect was a little creepy in Melisandre’s opinion but she couldn’t look away.

“We’ve got the tent and all. So far it’s still standing.” Brienne said.

“Any trouble?”

Jaime shrugged. “Nothing too damaging. We’ve fixed it.” He nodded at Brienne.

“Setting up the camp and your tent was an exercise in being able to work together. The next assignment you were given was a series of questions.” Melisandre explained. “What’s your opinion about that?”

“We haven’t finished it,” Jaime admitted, looking at Brienne then at her. “But we learned new things about each other. We’ve discussed some of them although there are still some thing left. . .hanging.”

Melisandre coaxed them, “Care to share?”

Brienne looked at Jaime and whispered something in his ear. As she leaned toward him, he petted her knee. Then she pulled away, looked at Jaime again and told her, “We. . .well, we talked about having more children.”

Melisandre consulted her mental dossier. “You have two, right?”

“Boys,” Jaime said proudly. “Drew and Ty. They have Brienne’s eyes and freckles.”

“They’re the sweetest children,” Brienne added.

“How do you feel about having more children?” Melisandre asked.

This gave the Lannisters a pause. This time it was Jaime who whispered in Brienne’s ear.

“Um. Here’s the thing,” Brienne glanced at Jaime, who nodded at her. “I. . .I know that I won’t be happy if I’m pregnant anytime soon. We’ve discussed this. And Jaime fully supports me but. . .earlier he asked if I could try being open to the idea of having more children.”

“It’s not that we ended in a draw,” Jaime said. “We discussed it but. . .it’s not clear where we are. I definitely want more children. And she’s worried I’ll leave her if she doesn’t want any more. I told her I won’t. I love her but I would be disappointed. And angry.”

“And I’m glad you told me that. But I feel. . .I feel that you need an answer right now, Jaime.” As Jaime started to protest, Brienne shook her head and he nodded. “That’s the impression I got. I really don’t know. There’s too much going on and I know you want me to slow down and I will, I really will, but I can’t. . .I really don’t know how I feel about more children. That’s the only answer I can give now.”

Brienne looked and sounded so helpless and defeated that Melisandre herself wanted to hug her. Instead, she remained on her seat and looked at Jaime. 

Jaime swallowed. “I had to ask, Brienne.”

“I’m not angry, Jaime. It’s your right. You have to know. I’m really sorry there’s no right answer I can give you right now.”

“But I don’t want you to give me a right answer. I want your answer. And if that’s all you can give me now, I won’t take it against you. This is not a test, my love.”

Melisandre waited a moment, observing how Jaime pulled his wife to his chest and gave her deep kisses along her hairline, her cheeks. Brienne’s slumped form was heartbreaking but the steely glint in her eyes said that while she needed comfort, she was not going to shatter. A rush of admiration went through Melisandre for her, for the couple. She had not seen anyone as accepting as they were of each other.

“Sometimes, there is no answer at all.” She told them carefully, weighing her words, turning them over in her head as if fruit and she was looking for the freshest, the best in a bushel. “You are right to ask for answers, Jaime, just as Brienne is also right to admit being on the fence regarding having more children. We need to ask our spouses the difficult questions, that’s how you know how solid you are. But with difficult questions are difficult answers, and more often than not, they are not the ones we want.”

Brienne nodded. She was still in Jaime’s arms. 

“There’s an obvious answer to this but I’ll ask anyway. Jaime. Why do you want more children?” 

“I love her.” His answer was swift and firm. “I did not think of children of my own until she came along. I love her sapphire eyes and her freckles and smile. I think she’s a lot more stubborn than I am,” he added, giving Brienne a soft smile. “I love that too. Our children won’t take shit from anyone. Anyone who tries will have hell to pay.”

Brienne put her hand on his cheek and Jaime’s smile widened. As she lowered it, his fingers threaded through hers. 

“Why are you unsure about children, Brienne?”

“Honestly? There’s just too much happening. I confess to being overwhelmed easily more than usual. But that’s because I have my tenure coming up at the end of the year. And we don’t have a nanny. And I feel guilty for abandoning Jaime—“

“You did not abandon me, wife. I volunteered to stay with Drew and Ty.”

“Okay. But. . .” Brienne’s shoulders sank. “This is why I can’t think about more children right now. There’s too much going on.”

“I understand. I really do.” Jaime rubbed her shoulders.

Melisandre nodded. “I have to ask this too. What about time for each other?”

“With regard to sex, we’re a lot more okay,” Jaime answered while Brienne bowed her head, biting her lip to hide her blush. “But we also talked about how little we’ve seen each other, you know, just us. Brienne’s right. There’s too much going on. We. . .we sometimes miss when it’s just us.”

“That doesn’t mean we love our children less or regret them,” Brienne felt she had to say.

“No,” Melisandre assured her kindly. “I didn’t think that. Now,” she said, brushing her palms together. “If I may share my observations?”

The Lannisters nodded.

“What I’ve seen is you have great trust in each other. That’s why Jaime is not afraid to be honest with you, Brienne. He knows he won’t scare you   
away or put you on the defensive by asking that. You also don’t take this trust for granted—you value it very much. This explains why Brienne is worried about what you’ll think of her, why she’s worried about disappointing you. I think you’re two people who live by a strict moral code—a code of honour, if you will. That’s a rare thing these days.”

Brienne looked clearly relieved though Jaime's expression was unreadable.

“I would like you to continue working on the questionnaire. It’s an exercise of trust and I’d like to see how far you can take it and to share me your thoughts tomorrow night. After we’ve discussed it, you will have another exercise in trust. I won’t tell you what it is for now but you do have to prepare yourselves for any outcome.”

“Now you’re scaring us,” Jaime joked.

“Trust is a terrifying prospect, Mr. Lannister. It’s plunging yourself into water of unfathomable depth and size.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brienne is often dogged and too determined in the TV series, almost robotic. I haven't read the books yet but this being TV, we're not really clued in on her thoughts. It's in the books where it's clear that Brienne overcompensates with her determination to see the Stark girls to safety because her doubts and fears are eating up on her. I hope Season Six does a better job with her character but I HOPE it doesn't mean D & D kill her off, fantastic as her death may be. 
> 
> Nobody puts Brienne in the corner!


	22. Changing It Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cersei, Robert, Tyrion and Sansa have a Wype session.   
> Watch out for Jealous Cersei and Dazed Tyrion and Robert.

“Tywin Lannister said what?” Sansa exclaimed.

Cersei raised her goblet of water. “Hear, hear.”

“Everyone, our childhood,” Tyrion added.

Robert rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Tywin Lannister is an ass.”

Cersei, who was sitting next to him, beamed happily at him. “That’s why I love you, my heart.”

As soon as Robert arrived home with takeaway from Wyman Manderly, he told Cersei about the argument between Tywin and Selwyn. Cersei had frowned, and wondered out loud how her father could say such stupidly sexist things when he was making serious progress finally seeing her as equal to men. The entire dinner was spent with Cersei grilling Robert such that he felt like he was the most unreliable witness and being cross-examined with ruthless glee. Cersei then suggested they talk with Tyrion and Sansa.

“I don’t like my nephews right being in the line of fire,” she explained to Robert. “I’ve no doubt Selwyn will kick my father’s ass but still. Children shouldn’t see violence like that.”

“I’d pay to see Selwyn kick Tywin’s ass,” Robert muttered as he logged in on Wype and sent a message to Sansa and Tyrion.

After updating the two with what happened, Tyrion just looked nonplussed while Sansa frowned. It was clear she was struggling to wrap her head around the idea.

“Cersei, Tywin’s really like this?’ She asked.

Cersei sipped her water. “If it wasn’t because I had breasts, or Tyrion’s a dwarf, it’s Jaime being dyslexic. Nothing pleases Tywin Lannister.”  
“What fuck is fucking wrong with being a woman or a dwarf or dyslexic?” Sansa exploded.

Tyrion waved his fist. “Whoo-hoo. Sansa Stark, everyone. You sure you’d much rather freeze in frigid Winterfell than work for Jaime and Brienne again?”

“Selwyn was not pleased about it, I tell you.” Robert said, helping himself to Cersei’s water. He sighed, looking longingly at the direction of their wine cellar. “We need good wine, my heart.”

Cersei shook her finger at him. “You promised to withdraw from wine with me. I’m carrying your twins, Robert. If I can’t have wine, you’re not having wine either.”

“So what happens next?” Tyrion asked in a bored voice. “As scintillating as this conversation is, I have an early start tomorrow. Do we send reinforcements? Or balloons?”

Sansa yawned. “Yeah. What do we do? I have a paper to present tomorrow.”

As soon as she finished speaking, someone in her room called her. Sansa jumped, her blue eyes widening. “Uh. . .guys, I should go.”

Robert raised an eyebrow. “You got a boyfriend there, Sansa?”

“What? No. It’s a cat.”

“A cat that calls you by your name?” Cersei said blandly. “That voice is awfully familiar.”

“Your pregnancy is making you hear things. Gotta go. My professor’s a hard-ass. Bye! Update me!” And with that, her part of the screen went dark.  
Tyrion scratched his head. “What was that about?”

“Tyr,” Cersei said. “What do we do?”

“Didn’t I just ask that?”

Cersei looked at Robert, who smacked a heavy hand to his forehead. “You want me to go there again?” He whined.

“Are you suggesting I get in the line of fire?” 

“Cers, you’re pregnant. Not an invalid. And people don’t like to make pregnant women feel bad. I’d bet if you demand Tywin to apologize to Selwyn he’d do it in a heartbeat.”

“I don’t want to make him apologize. He _should_ apologize. There’s a difference.” She turned to Tyrion. “You do it.”

“No, no, no. It shouldn’t be me.” Tyrion said shaking his head. “It should be someone who’s the grand master in manipulation. Who’s such a natural she doesn’t even know she does it.”

“She?” Robert and Cersei asked.

“Oh, Miss Tyrell,” Tyrion called in a singsong voice.

Margaery’s smooth, ivory oval face, rich, lustrous brown curls and big, brown eyes filled up the screen. She was the epitome of a woman radiant with the life growing inside of her. Cersei narrowed her eyes at Robert who visibly sat up, fixed his hair, and shot Margaery a charming smile.   
“Robert, hello! Cersei, dear sister. You look lovely.” Margaery said warmly as she sat beside Tyrion. 

One eyebrow raised, Cersei asked dryly, “You still call your wife Miss Tyrell, Tyrion?”

“Oh, I love it when he does that!” Margaery exclaimed. She smiled at Tyrion as if she could just eat him up. Tyrion straightened up too. “He makes me feel like a young maid.”

Her goodsister could be too much sometimes. Cersei was forty-fucking-five years old. Margaery was thirty-one.

“Cersei, I think Tywin is misguided. I believe what he needs is not someone who will tell him outright he’s wrong, but someone who’ll lead him to that realization. You know. Like steering a horse to the water.” Margaery said.

“See? What did I tell you? Manipulative.” Tyrion said proudly.

Margaery pouted prettily. “You are so mean sometimes, Tyrion. I would rather be thought of as charming.”

“Well,” Robert said, his voice suddenly deep and too intimate for Cersei’s ears. “You are that.”

Cersei glanced at the half-full goblet, sorely tempted to dunk it over her husband’s head.

“Selwyn would be glad to see me. We bonded a bit over our love of rigorous exercises though I can’t do them right now. My little sweetie would rather have her mother fat and lazy!” Margaery laughed, putting her hands on her round belly.

“You’re gorgeous, Miss Tyrell, not fat,” Tyrion was looking at her dreamily.

“You certainly are,” Robert echoed.

Cersei kicked him under the desk. Robert groaned, drawing Margaery and Tyrion’s eyes back to them. They were googly-eyed over each other as they talked. 

“Sorry. Was distracted by my wife,” Tyrion said, not sounding apologetic at all.

“As I was saying before I was distracted by this man over here,” Margaery said, giving Tyrion a side-eye so perfect even Cersei, despite her annoyance, was a little captivated, “I can drop by and visit Selwyn. He did mention something about wanting to catch up the next time he’s around so I can text him. And I’d like to remind Tywin that I’m carrying his granddaughter. I will not tolerate discrimination of any kind.”

“Ah. If only I’m not stuck in meetings all day I’d pay money to see that,” Tyrion said wistfully.

“Donate your money to charity than waste it on me, Mr. Lannister,” Margaery scolded him. Turning back to Cersei and Robert, she asked, “How does that sound? Is that okay?”

“More than okay,” Robert said while Cersei shrugged. Margaery clapped her hands happily.

“Oh, goodie! So that’s it. I’ll text Selwyn tonight and tomorrow I’ll pop in for a visit. I’d love to see my nephews too. Brienne warned me from wearing sneakers because the twins like eating them.” Suddenly, Margaery yawned.

Seven fucking hells, Cersei thought. Even the way she yawns is pretty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My inspiration for the inclusion of Margaery (who was not supposed to in this installment originally) is because I love how she's so skilled and smooth where Cersei just blunders. I think many of the men Margaery encounters believe themselves to be close to her although her affection for Selwyn is genuine. 
> 
> When Tyrion complained a few chapters ago about being yelled at by his pregnant wife, he was lying. Margaery is a happy pregnant woman.


	23. You in the Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some angst.

Exhausted from the four-hour trek, Jaime and Brienne barely managed to remove their dirty clothes before spreading out their sleeping bags and collapsing on them. Sleep found them quickly and neither stirred for the rest of the night. 

They woke up only seconds apart the next day. As Brienne groaned at the soreness of her feet and legs, Jaime muttered something about coffee. She glanced at him. Despite having slept heavily, his eyes looked so heavy they were almost half-shut and he looked cross. A cranky Jaime was brewing so Brienne kissed him, dry morning breath and all. He kissed her back.

Their rumbling stomachs had them breaking apart with a laugh. Jaime pouted as Brienne pulled away and started to get dressed. She examined their clothes. They were sticky and stank of sweat, musk and earth. A blush joined the small grin she allowed to cross her lips but when she turned around to face Jaime, dressed in her dirt-streaked tank and her nipples tight from the cold that had slipped into their tent, it was gone. Her cheeks remained hot.

Jaime lay on his back, hands stacked under his head, bare chest and muscles, delicious golden skin. The blanket was low on his hips, showing the curls below his stomach. He looked so yummy and hers that when he wagged his eyebrows at her exaggeratedly, she stretched over him and kissed him again.

It was only a matter of time before her hand slipped under the blanket to find the hardness of his cock. Jaime groaned against her lips as she stroked him, once again surprising her with his pleasure at her shy touches. He really loves me, Brienne thought. Her husband with his boundless love and infinite patience and understanding of her. They hardly spoke on the trek back to their camp, anxious still despite knowing that Jaime wasn’t angry or frustrated with her. Brienne sometimes wished her brain would stop working for ten minutes. Her own thoughts and worries exhausted her sometimes.

As she threw her other leg over Jaime’s lean hips so she was straddling him, her only thought was the pleasure of his heated emerald gaze on her, his kiss-swollen lips and his hands reverent on her body, of giving him pleasure. Jaime had once told her that if they were going to fuck in one position the rest of their lives, it would be with her on top. It wasn’t Brienne’s favorite though it guaranteed hard contact with her clit and faster, harder orgasms. She was still conscious of her small breasts though they were rounder and had grown a little heavy from pregnancy and breastfeeding, shy about her boyish waist, at how Jaime could see everything. But this morning, she didn’t care about her unfeminine body. He loved her. He really loved her.

“So un-fucking-believable,” Jaime rasped as Brienne guided the thick, erect length of his cock in her cunt. Their kisses had made her wet but she had to squirm and rotate her hips some before he was fully buried in her. 

“Jaime,” she gasped when his hand stretched toward between their bodies and played with her clit. Both of them growled as she shook and tightened around him, squeezing him. Then she grabbed his hand, pushing it above his head. He grinned at her, his eyes bright and playful as she pulled his other hand to join it. Trapping his wrists in her large hands, her eyes dark with arousal, she started to move.

“Fuck. That’s it, wife.” Jaime arched against her as he planted his feet hard on the mattress and pushed his hips up.

“You always feel so good,” Brienne confessed shyly, pumping her hips.

“Glad to hear it. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” Jaime closed his eyes. Her name was a husky moan. "Brienne. Gods. Brienne."

Brienne rubbed against him, her gasps blowing the hair that had fallen over his forehead. Her motions caused her clit to bump against him, sending one hot blast of sensation after another. Soon, she was shaking, fucking her husband with abandoned frenzy. She fell heavily on him as she came while he grunted as he spilled in her at last.

“I love you. I love you,” she told him, kissing him on the jaw, his cheeks, the base of his throat. Loosening her grip on his wrists freed him so he was able to embrace her. It was the best place in the world, Jaime’s arms. 

“Don’t forget,” he said against her ear. It sounded like a plea. 

As Brienne continued to lie on top of him, it occurred to her that she had once again forgotten to do that one thing. It was the second day in the row. She rose abruptly, startling Jaime. Still dazed from their fucking, he could only watch as Brienne jumped into her pants, skipped her socks and went straight to her boots. He sat up, cock wrung out and limp for now.

“Where’s the fire, wife?” He thought to make a joke.

“Uh—breakfast,” Brienne said, getting to her feet. Her hair stood out on their ends as if she’d jammed her fingers in an electrical socket. Despite her flushed cheeks, there was no missing the panic in her eyes. Before Jaime could ask her point-blank what was the matter, she got a jacket—his, actually—and threw herself out of the tent. 

Brienne got the water filters and started filling up the pouches. She went through one of the bags they’d left outside and found what she was looking for. When Jaime came out a short while later, zipping up his pants, looking rumpled but still handsome, she had started a fire and was tearing one of their ration packs to pour it into the pot. 

Jaime ran his fingers through his blond hair in an attempt to tame the wild mess but without a comb and his products, there was not much he could do. He got a whiff of his sweaty clothes and said, “So, wife. How does one take a bath in the wild? Fancy going for a dip after breakfast?” He asked, nodding towards the river.

“Sounds good. Our clothes could also use a wash.” Brienne agreed. “They provided us with soap, thank the Seven.”

He grinned at her. “And here I thought you liked my natural scent. You got off it when you were pregnant.”

Seven Hells—Brienne thought before a coughing fit hit her. Wide-eyed and stunned, she was helpless from the sudden attack that had her wheezing and gasping. Only when Jaime patted her hard between the shoulders did her coughing ease.

“Swallowed something?” Jaime asked, making the innocent question sound very sexual.

“It’s a little chilly today,” Brienne answered instead, huddling in the jacket. Still coughing, she pointed at the one of the water jugs. “If you could—“  
Jaime took one and handed it to her. She drank the cool liquid and the dryness in her throat vanished. 

“Why don’ you have your bath?” She suggested. “The food is still warming. And I haven’t started on the coffee yet.”

Jaime, sitting beside her, said, “I want to have my bath with you.”

The tips of her ears reddened at what he was implying. “Jaime, we are not doing it in the water. There’s fish and who knows what else in there. Haven’t you heard of river snakes?”

Jaime shuddered but he still grinned at her. “So we’ll do it by the rocks. I’d be happy to risk cuts by being at the bottom.”

“Cuts and wounds that can get infected. I don’t even know if we have enough medical supplies but we’re not risking injury just so we could brag about having done it in the water.” 

“Oh, and who were you going to tell about this, wife?” Jaime inquired innocently. “Because I was thinking of keeping it to myself. Something to think back on during boring meetings.”

“Shut up. You don’t think of us fucking during meetings!” Brienne was shocked.

“I certainly do. That’s often how I get my best ideas. My wife.” Jaime’s grin was so wide. “My wife with the Wonder Cunt. A pity it was too dark in the forest last night. That was fucking hot, wife. I thought fucking you against the tree back in Tarth or in the canoe was hot but last night was even hotter. And we were mostly dressed. Then this morning—“

“Oh come on. What’s so special about this morning? We’ve. . .we’ve fucked like that many times.”

“Not in a tent. And maybe we should try handcuffs next time, huh? Just imagine what you can do to me.'” 

As Jaime spoke, his hand skimmed her thigh. Brienne jumped and he doubled over, laughing. “No, Brienne. I don’t want us to fuck yet. We’re starving and as addicted as I am to your scent, our clothes are starting to get a little rank.”

“Food, a bath and clean clothes should clear our heads,” Brienne said, determined to not let their conversation turn into another opportunity for Jaime’s sexual overtures. “And we still have that questionnaire to finish.”

“You want to do some of them over breakfast?” 

“Really? You want that?”

“Well, why not? And she told us about another task. To be honest, I’m feeling a little iffy about that one, whatever it is. More trust exercises. What if she has you shooting flaming arrows at me?”

“You know I won’t agree to that. And she won’t have us doing anything like that. . .will she?”

“I have a feeling it has something to do with the roles assigned to us. You, the honourable, duty-bound Westerosi Marshall stuck with the murderous, incestuous criminal.” Jaime sat back, leaning on his elbows. “A guy like that, can you imagine. Nothing redeemable about him”

“Nowhere does it say he’s insane. He must have his reasons,” Brienne said, shrugging.

“He's a murderer. I think if one willingly bangs his twin sister he’s way in love with himself. And really dedicated to keeping it in the family. Tywin would love him.”

Brienne smiled at him. “Your father’s not that terrible.”

“Well, he’s not that of a hard-ass anymore. He was all about his children only interacting with the right people. I think he even arranged me to be roommates with Oberyn back in boarding school since he was looking into expanding to Dorne. Had no inkling at all that Obie would abdicate. He went from nagging me to invite him to dinner or summers at Casterly Rock to `Oberyn who?’”

“I bet he had things to say about me,” Brienne said, rising to check on their food. It was steaming hot. She removed the pot from where it hung over the fire and started scooping instant coffee into the other pot. She gave Jaime an apologetic look. “How big is your need for coffee, husband? Because I’m warning you now, this is going to be garbage bilge.”

Jaime looked pained. “Instant coffee?”

“I’m so sorry.”

Jaime sighed dramatically, making her laugh. She poured filtered water onto the powder and put the pot over the fire. As she brushed her palms and stood up again, Jaime asked, “Do you really want to know what Tywin said about you after I brought you to Casterly Rock the first time?” 

Brienne, on her feet and looking at him, tensed. “Will it kill me?”

“You’re a warrior, wife.” Jaime told her softly. “And you’re stunning in the sun.”

Brienne brushed his compliment aside. She knew she was no beauty and had buried all her angst about it. Still, she worried about what Tywin had said about her. She hated herself for that. Hated even more that she put Jaime on the spot but it was too late and Brienne Lannister was not known to back down. 

“Did Tywin comment about my height, about how mannish and mulish I was? Did he ask if you got knocked around and wasn’t thinking straight to bring someone like me?”

“Someone like you? There’s no one like you. Only you.” Jaime said and frowned. “Mannish, huh? Your shoulders are broader than mine and I’m jealous, actually. Awesome definition. That’s probably why I like kissing them because they’re strong but covered in really soft skin. Then there’s your eyes. No man has eyes like yours, wife. They’re soft but there’s steel too.” 

“What did Tywin tell you, Jaime?”

Jaime smiled slowly. “It was more like an order. Marching orders. I was already thinking it.”

“What is it?” Brienne’s heart was in her throat.

“He wanted to know why I haven’t asked you yet to marry me.” 

He said it so casually, as if they were talking about nothing out of the ordinary. Brienne actually clutched at her heart as his words slowly sank in and took shape in her mind.

“W-Why would he ask you that?”

“Who knows. But I’ve never brought home a girl before. You know this, Brienne. No other woman had set foot in my old apartment except for the cleaning lady. Only you. I wanted you in my life from the moment I saw you at that bar.”

“But—But—Jaime, I was drunk.” Brienne’s eyes looked a little glazed. “How—How could you want me then?”

“Why not? You were so sexy standing on those tables and holding that impromptu concert. All my life it’s proper girls, women from the right families. Women from the right school, with the right manners, the right name.” Jaime winced. “Bloodless women off the assembly line, that’s what they are. Who’s going to be interested in that?”

“Men, usually.”

“’I’m not like most men.”

Brienne went to him. Jaime rose to his feet. His eyes were gentle as she put her hands on his face, the stubble tickling her palms. “I’m glad you’re not,” she told him, her beating heart in her words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After the smut two chapters ago, I was going to abandon it for a bit. But smut is insistent so. . .there.


	24. The Lion and the Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a showdown between Tywin and Margaery.

“This is wonderful, Selwyn. Thank you for indulging my sweet cravings,” Margaery said as she daintily tapped the corners of her pink lips with a cloth napkin. “The doctor told me to be more careful and Tywin,” she said, turning her big, doe eyes at him, “your son is really strict with me keeping my low-sugar diet so I would love it if this moment of madness is kept between us.”

Then she and Selwyn started chatting again. Tywin rolled his eyes at the other man. Selwyn looked like he’d been banged in the head and was smiling at Margaery as if she were singing the sweetest songs and flower and stars were coming out of her lips. Tyrion’s wife was an attractive woman, there was no doubt about it. But Tywin found her too smooth, too charming, too much of everything. She was like overripe fruit, a too-sweet concoction. The girl was too much of Olenna Tyrell’s granddaughter and hardly the daughter of that oaf Mace. No wonder she’d hoodwinked the dissecting, calculating Tyrion Lannister, Tywin thought, having little choice but to help himself with another slice of the rich and delicious strawberry cream cake made by Selwyn.

“What do you think, Tywin?” 

Lost in his thoughts about scheming gooddaughters and supposedly intelligent sons smitten by scheming, gooddaughters with the face of the Maiden, Tywin had mentally stepped back from the conversation. Coolly, he asked, “My apologies. I drifted for a bit. What is it?”

Selwyn glared at him while Margaery, smiling and the small dimples surrounding it deepening charmingly, said, “I was just telling Selwyn that Tyrion and I intend to name your granddaughter after my grandmother and mother. Olenna Alerie. What do you think? We’re thinking of nicknaming her Ally or Lenna.” 

The Seven save Westeros if his granddaughter turned out to be another Olenna Tyrell. The old bat was as old as the Crone but she was still sharp and very much a worthy opponent in mind games. 

“Ah. So I’ll be having a granddaughter.”

“You’re having two granddaughters, Tywin.” Selwyn reminded him. “One of Cersei’s twins is a girl, isn’t it? Personally, my dear,” he told Margaery, “I’m quite jealous. Not that Drew and Ty aren’t sweet, wonderful lads but I want a granddaughter to spoil.”

“Selwyn Tarth, do not make me cry!” Margaery exclaimed, obviously pleased. They laughed, irritating Tywin even more. How were they friends? How and why? Why had no one mentioned it to him? Selwyn did, but only this morning, much like a military edict: “Margaery is coming for a visit and you will be in your best behaviour, Tywin Lannister. You will put our grandsons down for a nap while I bake a cake.” He spoke with such finality that for the first time, Tywin couldn’t come up with an eviscerating comeback.

“So, Tywin? What do you think? Olenna Alerie Lannister.” Margaery prompted him, taking a tiny sip of her tea. 

“It’s a good name,” Tywin conceded. “Your grandmother and mother are strong, vibrant women.”

“Do not let grandmother hear you describe her as vibrant,” Margaery scolded him. In a stage whisper to Selwyn, she said, “She’d be much flattered to be called stubborn and demanding to her face.”

“Well, Olenna is a formidable woman, Marge,” Selwyn told her, smiling. “If she were a battle commander I would be glad to serve under her.”  
Marge? Seriously? Tywin thought.

“She thinks highly of you too, Selwyn. Now, Tywin, are you not disappointed to be having two granddaughters? I mean, you already have three grandsons.” 

“Joffrey is a Baratheon, not a Lannister.”

“Joffrey is a spirited boy,” Selwyn said. “Drew and Ty love him. If they’re not looking for their parents, it’s Joff.”

“How are Jaime and Brienne? Any word from them?” Margaery asked, forking off a piece of the cake. 

“They left the twins a message but they’ll be under the radar for a few days.” Selwyn shrugged. “What do you think about them going for couples counselling? Are they. . .you know, is everything alright?”

Selwyn had no idea about the big fight his daughter and goodson had at Casterly Rock months ago. Tywin felt a little smug. But in truth, he had been embarrassed about Jaime. He thought he raised the boy right. Brienne deserved much better treatment. If there was anyone who needed counselling, in Tywin’s opinion, it was Jaime.

“They told us they are. They’re just overachievers, wanting to be the best for each other.” Margaery said. “It’s quite sweet, actually. Of course, I could do without. . .er, you know, how handsy they are with each other.” A blush stolen from a rose crept up her cheeks.

Selwyn was puzzled. “They’re mighty proper when with me.”

“Well, Jaime is terrified of you, Selwyn,” Margaery teased him.

Tywin knew Margaery was talking about. Catching Brienne with her hand down Jaime’s pants in front of the pool house in Casterly Rock was not the last time he would stumble in on them. The last time they stayed for the weekend, for Tyrion’s birthday, Tywin had walked in on them going at it in the garage, in one of the priceless, vintage cars there. Brienne’s cries were an indication that Jaime knew exactly what he was doing. How that did not result in another grandchild was a mystery. The couple didn’t know they were caught right in the act this time and Tywin had no intention of telling them, or anyone. But for Margaery to bring up how his son and his wife could get too affectionate for everyone’s liking was a relief.

“He should be,” Selwyn rejoined. “I can break him in half with my two hands.”

“That’s my son you’re talking about, Selwyn,” Tywin snapped.

“Oh, we’re just having fun, Tywin.” Margaery teased him this time. 

“So you’re done with naming your daughter. Have you started decorating her room?” Selwyn asked.

“Bit by bit. Tyrion and I have finally decided on lavender for her room. He wanted yellow. I told him you use yellow when you weren’t sure about the sex of the baby and since we knew we’re having a girl, I didn’t see the point of being safe. It should be done next month.”

Seven Hells, even Tyrion couldn’t get his preferred color for the baby’s room, Tywin thought.

“What’s your birth plan, if I may ask?” Selwyn asked her. “Brienne did it naturally, bless her. What about you?”

“I hope so. To be honest I’m a little scared of how long I might labor. But Brienne’s my model for that. She gave birth to twins naturally! I can never top that. And absolutely no drugs for my Lenna.” Margaery said, looking down at her bump and running a gentle hand over it. Then she gave a little squeal. “Oh. I think I just gave her a nickname!”

“Olenna Alerie is a beautiful name,” Selwyn told her. His blue eyes warmed. “And she will be beautiful like her mother.”

“Thank you, Selwyn. But I expect my daughter to be more than just a pretty face,” Margaery declared, throwing her shoulders back gracefully. “She will study subjects and matters that nourish her mind and give her a clearer understanding of the world. She will be who she wants to be. She will live her life according to her terms and will never apologize for it.” She gave a pointed glance at Tywin, who straightened up in his seat before continuing smoothly, with a smile, “She has strong women in the family to look up to, after all. My grandmother. Her Aunt Brienne. Her Aunt Cersei. Tywin, how does it feel that your daughter is chief resident at King’s Landing General?”

Fuck the gods, Tywin swore. That blasted Robert had blabbed. 

Refusing to take the bait, he said, “The hours are still long, the work has doubled, the pay increase is laughable. Should I be proud of that that my daughter would deal with guts and blood rather than work in a nice office where people will sweep blood for her?”

For the first time since arriving, Margaery looked taken aback. Selwyn wished he was drinking something stronger besides tea.

“I don’t know if you realize this, Tywin,” she said slowly, “but being a woman and a doctor is still difficult despite the progress made. I would have thought you’d be proud that there’s a Lannister who is contributing to society in a way that a lot of people aren’t qualified for.”

“Oh, women are only for birthing and taking care of the home for Tywin here,” Selwyn said, sitting back. “Nothing wrong with that. My Alysanne, the Seven bless her soul, was exactly that. But it was her choice. Women shouldn’t be restricted from what they want to do simply because they don’t have the required appendage.”

“And Brienne—Brienne’s made some groundbreaking research work into Westerosi literature during the re-conquest of Daenerys Storm-Born. Not a lot of scholars would touch it. You need expertise in a battery of languages—High Valyrian is a dead language, for one. Brienne’s work has shined a light into an area in our culture and history we’ve never imagined.”

“But what of the children, eh? Children should have their mothers around. That Joffrey is going to be raised by that pretty nanny of his--“  
Margaery narrowed her eyes at him. “That’s my brother you’re talking about, Tywin.”

“Loras is a good lad. His career of choice may be untraditional but he’s good at his job. Margaery, don’t bother yourself with this sexist old bag of bones. Nothing pleases Tywin Lannister.”

Margaery patted Selwyn’s hand but she kept her attention on Tywin. “Where does this come from, Tywin? It’s not farfetched at all to deduce that you disapprove of my work when I should just be at home, pregnant, and wait for my husband, am I right?”

“Why are you all attacking me? I’m traditional. When did that become a bad thing?” Tywin demanded.

“You’re not being traditional. You’re being sexist, dictatorial and just plain disappointing. No wonder your children don’t like you.” At that, Margaery got to her feet, smoothly and easily despite her pregnancy. The look she gave Tywin made him feel like a life form lower than a fungus. Head high, Margaery said coolly, “Selwyn, if you could walk me out?”

“Gladly, my dear.” Selwyn said, giving her his arm. 

“Tywin,” Margaery said as she stood by the door. Tywin turned around. 

“What is it now, Margaery?”

“I will not have my daughter and my niece exposed to such ideas. Nor any of my nephews. Think about what a woman like me _will_ do, Tywin.” And with that, she nodded at Selwyn. They left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Margaery and Tywin butting heads. Whew.


	25. Wild Lannisters (Part Two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne fight.

“You’re not making me do this!”

“You promised!”

“I am not going to gut live fish!”

“I whacked them dead on the rock. They won’t know it!”

“Still!”

“Jaime Lannister, I gave up underwear because you promised!”

“Well, today, I become an oathbreaker, Brienne Tarth.”

“What the fuck are you calling me by my maiden name for?” 

“No, no, no. Brienne, don’t make me do this!”

“Then you’ll be stuck with blah-tasting rations while I enjoy fresh, plump fish.”

“I’m your husband, wench. I command you to stop yelling at me!”

“I’m your wife, oathbreaker. I command you to stop being a diva!”

A wet, seething Brienne was always a turn-on for Jaime. He liked surprising her in the shower, kissing away her indignant shrieks, letting her bruise him with her pinches because it was so fucking rewarding when she finally melted in his arms and could gasp only his name, as if she knew nothing else. 

This time, she was glaring at him, her white, damp tank rendering her practically topless, sticking to her skin and looking like frosted sugar on her breasts, her firm, defined abs. She had rolled her pants to her knees and they clung to her too, outlining that hard bunched muscles of her thighs. Water dripped down her muscular calves. Add her messy blond hair, her outraged sapphire eyes and the curled jut of her thick, full-lipped mouth and Jaime would have a raging hard-on. Except that there was blood dripping down her hands where she held the dead fish she’d bashed against the rocks at his request, and a knife that look too menacing even in her large grip. 

She looked like she could gut an entire army of soldiers. 

She was fucking magnificent.

Jaime had not been scared of his wife until now.

If we’re thrown in a deserted island, it’s pretty clear who dies first, he thought.

“Jaime,” Brienne said with exaggerated patience. “I’ll walk you through it. I’ll clean the fish with you.”

“How can you stand the smell? It’s making me sick,” Jaime whined.

“I’m a woman. I’m used to blood. Stop being a brat and help your wife, husband.” And with that, Brienne tossed him one of the fish. Jaime yelped and leaped away but the fish still hit him right on the cheek.

“That’s fucking not funny!” Jaime protested, wiping his wet sleeve on his face.

After breakfast, Brienne suggested that she could teach Jaime how to catch fish with his bare hands. It sounded like a fun and he had heartily agreed—aside from learning a new skill, he would also get to see his wife in a wet t-shirt and hopefully, naked from the waist down. Unfortunately, Brienne had only stripped down to her tank and rolled up her pants. And she had not been happy when she caught him leering at her as she instructed him how to squat in the water and how he should cup his hands. Jaime, who had thought the activity was going to be some sexy, adult play time had signed himself up for an actual lesson.

Sex wasn’t on his mind at all as they had breakfast, though it certainly wasn’t far from his mind with his wife around. They were able to answer one from the questionnaire and discussed it lengthily. By the time they’ve polished off their rations and the coffee—“Desperation makes shit taste like gold,” Jaime had remarked—they were relaxed and each felt to have better knowledge of the other and a deeper bond. It was then that Jaime suggested Brienne teach him how to fish.

It was a lot more bloody difficult than it looked like. Jaime kept slipping, kept getting distracted by muscles of Brienne’s arms, her eyes almost alien in the brightness of the morning sun, and the blasted fish that swam around him—one of them had even bitten him. He yelled that the river was infested with piranhas!

“There are no piranhas in the Riverlands, Jaime,” Brienne told him.

“They’re freshwater fish!” He insisted, lifting his wet leg to look at the bite

“Not this water. Now get down and do what I told you.”

They caught three fish—it was originally four. Jaime wrangled his hands on one but when it suddenly squirmed, he squealed and threw the fish back in the water. The three were caught by Brienne with annoying ease.

“It takes time,” she told him. “Come on. I’ll teach you how to clean fish.”

Sitting on the rock, one leg up and the other dangling, Brienne proceeded to remove the scales from the very much alive fish. The other two writhed next to her, gasping for air. Jaime swallowed and pointed out she was subjecting the poor creature to unnecessary cruelty. Flushing, Brienne had agreed.

Then smacked the fish down the rock. “What the fuck are you doing?” Jaime demanded, hands clutching at his wet, sticky hair in horror.   
“Now they’re dead. Get over here, Lannister. Come on. In cleaning fish, first you have to remove the scales—“

“You couldn’t have killed them more humanely?” Jaime cried.

Brienne, puzzled, frowned. “And what would you have me do? Drown them?”

It went downhill from there. Jaime called Brienne a sadist for the way she’d killed the fish and proceeding to dismember them in full view of family and friends who were no doubt gathered around them, amassing their army of piranha friends to exact revenge. Brienne sarcastically grunted that she didn’t know he was a vegetarian. Jaime thought she was being hurtful. Brienne thought he was just making excuses so she’d end up doing the work. And then she started waving the half-gutted fish at him and Jaime, startled, lost his balance and fell right back in the river. Brienne didn’t help him.

When he resurfaced, spitting, angry and wet, he told her she didn’t love him.

Fed up, Brienne had exploded. “Stop being a child and just tell me if you’d rather sit this one out instead of dragging out whatever shit we’ve got ourselves into this time.”

But Jaime was a Lannister. Pride had him declaring he wasn’t backing down. He just couldn’t imagine taking the leap from catching fish to killing them slowly. Brienne had to remind him they’re dead. Then she insisted he help. Jaime, thinking things had already gone downhill from the moment he rolled up his pants legs and waded in the water for his first lesson, didn’t think it would take a turn for the worse. Soon they were yelling at each other, with Brienne threatening to drown him and Jaime shouting that he’d take her with him if she did. Brienne said he could fucking try. Jaime growled he fucking will.

Now they were glaring at each other. If not for their angry stares and the knife and the blood, anyone seeing them would think they were about to fuck. Hard.

Brienne was the first to look away. Muttering under her breath, she took the fish, slid off the rock, smirked when she splashed Jaime heavily, and stormed in the direction of their meal area. Jaime balled his fists and glared after her. He stood in the water for a few more minutes before he stomped away.

He saw his wife cutting the fish and digging out their bloody entrails. The stink was sharp, metallic and recalled something rotting. He pinched his nose as he walked past Brienne.

“Why do you like making me out as the bad guy?” Brienne suddenly shouted at him.

Jaime turned around. She was still sitting down. The fish guts were wet, bloody clumps and threads on. She had put aside the knife but her glare was still deadly.

“Why can’t you just let me stop when I say it?” He roared back.

“At what point did you want to stop?”

“I don’t know, Brienne. How many times did I have to tell you I did not want to gut the fish?”

Brienne shot to her feet. “Is that how it’s going to be? I catch the fish, I clean it, I cook it, and what are you going to do? You’re just going to eat?”

“I could cook the fish!”

“You didn’t offer!”

Jaime clamped his mouth. He sure didn’t.

“You asked me to teach how to fish. Just because you didn’t get it right the first time doesn’t mean you have to be angry with yourself and then take it out on me with all these stupid excuses.”

“What are you talking about? I wasn’t making any excuses. I really don’t want to gut the fish. Learn to catch yes, but not cut them up.”

Brienne’s eyes veered skyward before she looked at him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why did you assume I’d want to—okay. I see.” Jaime said, flushing.

Brienne rolled her eyes at him and resumed cleaning the fish. Her motions were fast and efficient. Jaime didn’t know if she was usually that fast or if she was still angry—hell, he was still pissed.

“Why am I always the one apologizing, Brienne?” He demanded.

She frowned at him. “I wasn’t asking for an apology. No one needs to apologize.”

“You told me I made you the bad guy again.”

“No doubt.”

“What about you?”

“Do you hear me proclaiming myself to be blameless, husband?” Brienne put away the knife. “What I want is for us to work together. You told me to trust you more. I am. I do. But how can I rely on you when you’re quick to give up, when you refuse to learn and just pile on one complaint after another?” 

“I didn’t give up. I just told you I didn’t want to clean the fish.”

“You didn’t tell me right away. If you had, we wouldn’t have yelled at each other.”

“So I’m to blame, is that it?”

“I am not blaming you. But you’re going to have to tell me what you can and are willing to do.”

“Alright.” Jaime said, conceding. “I would like to cook the fish. I think I can stomach hunting but definitely not gutting or de-scaling or de-furring animals.”

“What if I teach how to set up traps, snares?”

“I don’t know.”

Brienne considered it. “Alright.”

“Alright?”

“Alright.”

Jaime sighed and sat down next to her. The smell of the fish guts wasn’t so bad now. 

“I am sorry for being an ass, wife.” He told her.

“I’m sorry for being mean.” She said. Her cheeks were dark pink.

“Kiss to make up?” He asked, putting an arm around her waist.

“No! You stink!”

And with a laugh, Brienne launched the fish guts at him. Jaime screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not the last of Jaime's diva-tude.


	26. There's No Other Way I'd Have You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne makes a joke that has Jaime swearing to slit throats.

Arguing had awakened a hunger so deep within them that Brienne showed impatience this time. Jaime waved away her complaints as he turned the fish in the fire. “I don’t think we should risk sushi out in the wild, wife,” he told her sternly as she sighed loudly for the nth time.

Finally, the fish was done. They placed the fish on a collapsible plate, looked at each other, and started to take apart the food with their bare hands. Brienne laughed at Jaime’s clumsy attempts to separate fish from bone, at the chunks of spit rapidly accumulating on the ground on his side. This time, when she showed him what to do, her husband was more than willing to learn. And she didn’t know what happened or how, but maybe because a helpless Jaime could be cute sometimes, hence why she started feeding him. 

Their eyes were warm as they regarded each other, vibrant blue and brilliant green. Jaime couldn’t take his eyes off Brienne as she expertly pulled a generous chunk of meat from the bone. She had big hands, as heavily freckled as the rest of her body. Her fingers were long and elegant. She did not have soft hands but her touch was gentle and warm. Unable to resist, Jaime took her hand, greasy and smelling of smoke and fish, and brought it to his lips. Brienne’s eyes softening did not make her beautiful but there was no one he would rather look at, no one else he could imagine kissing.

Brienne feeling her heart kick an extra beat, said huskily, “I thought I was feeding you.”

Jaime sucked on one of her fingers, his cheeks hollowing. She blushed, turning away. She jumped when his lips were suddenly moving against her ear. “Why don’t you let your over-privileged, spoiled, diva of a husband feed you this time, hmm?”

Brienne could only nod, not trusting herself to speak because her heart was pounding was so fast. To her relief and disappointment, Jaime sat back and proceeded to feed her the next fish. His hands were wide-palmed, with long, elegant fingers. Despite being a Lannister, Jaime’s hands were rough and calloused. He may be art director of LSM Creatives but that did not exempt him from grunt work. His hands, having never eaten fish like they were doing before, were clumsy and the portion he pulled from the bone miniscule. A smile lit up Brienne’s face before she opened her mouth and let him put food in there.

Red soon climbed up her cheeks. For all his faults and childishness, Jaime was a generous husband. Not many wives could boast with certainty that their husbands put them first, even before the children. Brienne knew she would never get used to it, someone putting her needs before his. And she was glad she wouldn’t. She didn’t want to take Jaime for granted. Thus, despite her blushes, she was touched at his gesture. 

They finished the third fish together, feeding each other this time. As the sun climbed higher in the sky and the chill in the air receded, they finished and buried the leftovers and bones in their compost pit. Shielding his eyes from the sun, Jaime suggested that they bathe in the river.  
It sounded lovely. Brienne felt sticky and hot and she was pretty sure she stank of fish—though Jaime was no better either. But she balked at the idea of being in her birthday suit in public. 

“It’s only us in this forest, wife,” Jaime assured her, putting his hands on her waist and pulling her toward him. 

“There’s a medical team ten kilometres away,” Brienne reminded him, looking at her boots.

“Do you think they have a zoom lens? Surveillance cameras?”

“Of course not. But thank you for introducing that possibility.”

Brienne frowned as Jaime smiled at her. “Well, I wouldn’t blame them. I mean, look at you.”

“There’s not much to see.”

“So you say, wife. So you say.” Jaime then whispered in her ear. “I like everything I see and don’t see and will see.” He punctuated every mention of the word `see’ with a caress on her cheek, her breast, her waist. She shuddered as he added, his voice suddenly rough with desire,“But only _I_ will see, wife. I promise you that.” 

Then he cupped her cunt through her pants. Brienne leaned her forehead against Jaime's as she breathed heavily, turning a brighter red as his fingers found her slit through the fabric. Her hands went to his shoulders, bunching at the cotton of his t-shirt as he continued touching her. She closed her eyes as his lips trailed up and down her cheek, down her neck, lingering at the spot where her pulse beat frantically. 

Still clinging to him, Brienne shook her head. “I don’t know, Jaime.” _Seven Hells, she was gasping._

“Alright." He tipped her chin up, alternating between light kisses and gentle sucking of her flushed skin. Mercifully, his hand left her cunt but it went around her hips to press her against his erection. "Keep your shirt on, if it makes you more comfortable. It’s probably more efficient. You can wash it as you bathe.” 

Brienne thought it was ridiculous but Jaime’s deep, hot kiss on her mouth told her otherwise. Their lips were swollen by the time he pulled away to ask for the soap. Still dazed from their kiss, she could only point toward their packs. He shot her a pleased smile before he let go and left her, head still spinning.

Jaime had no qualms with being naked in public. After taking the soap, he strode toward the river, kicking off his shoes as he went. Brienne rolled her eyes as he did the same thing at home, kicked off his shoes to whatever direction as soon as he was past the door. He pulled off his t-shirt. His broad back was a stretch of taut, even, golden skin rippled with muscle. It took all of Brienne’s willpower to stay where she was, to just watch as he removed his pants. She bit her lip as her eyes fell on his round, high, little tush. Golden globes, she thought, barely restraining her giggle. 

Suddenly, he turned around. His beautiful green eyes squinted at her curiously. “What’s the hold-up, wife?”

“Uh. Um. . .give me your clothes. I’ll wash them.”

“We’ll wash out clothes together and bathe together.” Jaime, proud and beautiful as he stood naked in the sun, looking every inch of the lion of his old house sigil, beckoned her. She swallowed as her eyes fell on his cock, thick and long despite being at rest. “Come on, Brienne." Though smiling, his voice was low and seductive.

Blushing furiously, Brienne stumbled toward him. She removed her boots, placing them neatly on the ground. What happened to her socks? She wondered as she continued to trip toward her husband. She unbuttoned her shirt and Jaime, holding his clothes, took it from her. Brienne gripped the edge of her tank, stiffening.

“If you don’t want to, Brienne, it’s alright,” Jaime reassured her.

Brienne could almost kiss him if only she was sure she would not throw her husband to the ground and fuck him. Nodding, she moved her hands to her pants. She tore off her belt and unzipped quickly, to get it all over and done with. She clutched her pants to her chest as she straightened up. As she did, she saw that his cock had grown fuller and straining towards her. She raised her head and Jaime's stare almost melted her right on the spot. 

He drank her in. Black pupils slowly overtook the vivid green of his eyes as he looked at her. He smiled at her quaking legs before his eyes trailed up to rest on her face. His half-squinted eyes indicated his desire. “Fucking marvellous. That’s what you are, Brienne.”

Her breasts swelled in response, in anticipation.“Uh, thank you?” She breathed. He laughed and cupped her cheek.

They washed their clothes together, hoping the water and soap would rub away the smell of sweat, fish, smoke and earth. At some point, Brienne summoned just enough courage to remove her shirt--and Jaime's lascivious staring helped a bit, truth be told, though she'd frowned at him disapprovingly. After wringing every drop of water from their clothes, they spread them over the rocks to dry—the sun didn’t really reach the trees. Then Jaime took her hand and pulled her into the water.

The water was both cool and warm. Brienne hummed happily, dipping her head to wet her hair. Jaime sent a spray of water toward her, laughing. She shrieked and hurled more toward him. 

The water was unlike the sea back in Tarth but it would have to do. As a child, Brienne would usually be found by the ocean, either building sand castles or swimming. Her pale skin and freckles boiled her in the sun but it did not stop her from enjoying the comforting ripple of the ocean. She could swim and snorkel for hours, enjoying looking at underwater life. 

“Gods, that’s good,” Jaime groaned happily, floating on his back. 

“Back home in Lannisport, did you spend a lot of time in the Sunset Sea?” Brienne asked as she started rubbing soap on her body.

“Oh, yeah. Cersei, Tyrion and I liked to jump off this little cliff and race toward one of the buoys. Tywin didn’t like it. Especially with Tyrion—his size put him at a disadvantage. That’s why he built the pool. Not so fun but it did the job.”

“I’d like to go for a swim in the Sunset Sea the next time we’re in Lannisport,” Brienne told him.

Jaime, straightening up so he could wade toward her, smiled. Water dripped from his hair , down his unshaven jaw, his chest. He looked like half a god.“Yes. Let’s do that.”

She held out the soap to him. “Could you please wash my back?”

His eyes were sultry. “Just your back?”

Her cheeks burned before tossed the soap to him. He caught it, laughing. She went to him and presented her back.

“This is nice,” Jaime murmured as he soaped her back. His strokes were slow and sensual. He put an arm around her waist and pulled her closer, until they were touching. _Everywhere._ He kept his other arm around her waist as he continued soaping her. 

Brienne, who was thankful that the current of the river drowned out her stuttered breathing, nodded. “It’s quiet.”

“I miss mornings when we have breakfast. Remember those?”

Brienne did. “You with your paper,” she said. “Me with my coffee. People might think it odd that we hardly spoke during breakfast but that’s how we’ve always done it. It was comforting. It was wonderful.”

“Now we’ll have to wait eighteen years for that. Or more.” 

She turned around to face him. He looked wistful and a little sad. Her hands cupped his face. “We can still have that. We don’t have to wait that long.”

“Notice how we seem to be talking a lot about just being with each other? It’s beginning to sound like we don’t want children.” Jaime clearly felt guilty. Brienne shook her head fiercely.

“That’s not what I get at all. Aside from the sex, we don’t have plenty of opportunities to be with just each other. It’s normal, Jaime.”

“Yeah, but what if it becomes the way of things?”

“We won’t let that happen. We’ll get stuck in a rut now and then but again, that’s normal. And it helps that we talk about it, like we are now.” Brienne took the soap from him and started rubbing it on his chest. “In the questionnaire, it asks you to describe your perfect day. Like, if you could do anything you want, what would it be?”

Jaime gave over to the pleasure of her soft, shy touches of his body with the soap. “Anything I want?”

“Yes. Anything you want.”

“I’d like to go for a walk around the city. Just take things in. Observe. Watch. Keep on walking. Maybe I’ll catch a movie, maybe something medieval fantasy, or an action-packed one. Then I go home, and when I open the door you’re padding around the apartment barefoot, with your shirt pulled out of your skirt. You have a book in your hand, Drew and Ty are clinging on your legs, each demanding for your attention. But you turn to look at me when you hear me. You smile.”

Brienne, who was rubbing the soap on his stomach, hesitant to go any lower, asked. “And?”

“What do you mean? That’s it. A perfect day for me.” Jaime took her hand and pulled it lower past his stomach. His smile was that of a lazy, satisfied lion as she rubbed his cock, one hand soaping him, the other encircling and squeezing. His head fell back and he pushed slightly against her hand.

“Your perfect day is to walk around the city, watch a movie, and be welcomed home with a smile from me?” Brienne asked disbelievingly. Her hands softened their grip around him.

Jaime looked at her.“What’s wrong with that?”

“Maybe I should ask the question in another way.” Brienne said thoughtfully. “What if you get a free pass?”

Jaime frowned “A free pass?” He took the soap and pulled her hands back to his cock. If not for the water, Brienne was sure she'd burst into flames.

“Like, if you can do whatever you want for the day.” Brienne looked at him in the eye as she rubbed him and gave his balls a slight pull, just as he liked it. “Like, for one day, you’re released from your marriage vows, for example.”

“Seven Hells, why would I want that?” Jaime gasped. Brienne's eyes widened. _Did he just get bigger?_

“I won’t be angry with whatever you’ll say, Jaime,’ Brienne promised though her stomach was beginning to sink. She continued pleasuring him.

“I am angry that you’ll think I’d want to be released from my vows for a day, wife. Marrying you is the best thing I’ve ever done. Certainly the sanest. Why would I want anyone else even for just a day?” Jaime sounded angry. _And he was getting harder with every word._

“You know that are some couples who have a list of celebrities they’re allowed to fuck. It’s nothing serious. It’s just for fun!” Brienne was beginning to backpedal mentally. Her hands faltered and dropped. Jaime clearly did not see the joke. 

Jaime narrowed his eyes at her hands then at her. “Over my dead body someone else will fuck you, Brienne. I don’t share. Anyone who thinks I should would have his throat slit.”

“Really?”

“Are you telling me you want a free pass? How long is this list of celebrities you want to fuck?’ Jaime snarled, advancing toward her.

“What? _No!_ No one! Jaime, lighten up. It was only a joke.”

“My marriage vows are _no joke,_ Brienne.”

“I take them seriously too. I don’t share. Anyone who thinks I should will have all their teeth knocked out, that’s for sure. I'm sorry. I know you take our vows seriously, Jaime." 

“Do you want a free pass?” Jaime asked. In the sun, he suddenly paled. Brienne was horrified. She wasn’t testing him. Seven Hells, she was only joking! Alright, half-joking. But whoa, she did not expect this reaction from her husband. 

“Why would I want a break from our marriage? Sure, you’re childish and you’ll make me grow gray hairs early but I love you. I can not love anyone else besides you. And our children, of course. I don’t want to love anyone else. You’re infuriating and sometimes I just want to smother you with a pillow because you deserve it but if you’re not any of these things, you won’t be Jaime. Not the Jaime I love. ”

Jaime grinned. “Does this mean you will still love me even when I don’t learn to clean fish?”

Brienne rolled her eyes. “ _My Jaime_ has the stomach to clean fish. Will you at least learn how to catch fish? Or set up traps? How will you take care of yourself out in the wild?”

“You’ll take care of me.” Jaime declared. He winked at her. “What’s the point of having a strong, young, strapping wife?”

Sometimes, Brienne thought as she kicked water toward Jaime, she really wished she could drown him. Laughing, Jaime caught her leg and used it to topple her over. Her shriek was cut off when she fell in the water. She pushed against it, resurfacing with violent sputtering. Her eyes bolts of fiery blue, she lunged toward Jaime, who caught her by her arms.

"I'll show how it exactly is to have a strong, young, strapping wife," Brienne swore, struggling as he pressed himself against her. Chest to chest, his nipples poked against her own, the wet hairs of his chest brushing against her breasts. His cock nudged against her stomach, making her jump. "Seven Hells, Lannister, again?" But her outrage was all pretense, they both knew.

"You did say you'll be showing me exactly how it is to have a strong, young, strapping wife." Jaime told her smugly. His hands cupped her under her ass and scooped her up, urging her legs to wrap around his waist. "Don't say I'm impossible, Brienne. Not now. Kiss me instead. Love me." He whispered, a hint of desperation in his voice.

Groaning his name, pouring into it her love, she did as he asked. For starters.


	27. The Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tywin gets a surprise visitor.

After Margaery’s visit, Selwyn and Tywin fell in a mutual, silent ceasefire. They took care of Drew and Ty, cooing and talking softly to them. By the same silent agreement, it fell on Selwyn to take care of the meals and Tywin the clean-up. They split duties on bathing, playing, telling the twins stories, and generally keeping things running as usual in the too-small apartment. 

The afternoon found Tywin alone in the apartment with the twins. Selwyn had gone down to the basement to do the laundry, a task that he took one with a raised eyebrow at the other man. That was insulting, in Tywin’s opinion. Sure, he had never done laundry in his life but how hard was it to figure out a washing machine? It washed things for you. All you had to was dump the clothes in. 

Tywin had just put his grandsons down for a nap when a brief spurts of buzzing suddenly filled the apartment. Muttering under his breath, he strode to the speaker by the door and pressed the button. “Yes?”

“Ellaria Martell for Tywin Lannister,” came a woman’s husky, slightly accented voice.

“I don’t know of any Ellaria Martell.” Tywin answered. “I suggest you leave.”

“I suggest you let me in I will storm the Riverlands myself and tell Brienne exactly what you think of her. My husband may no longer be prince of Dorne but we still have quite a fleet of transportation available to make it possible. Would you rather face your gooddaughter or her best friend, Tywin Lannister?” 

Oberyn Martell’s wife, Tywin realized. He knew that against his advice, Jaime remained close to the ex-prince. He had no idea that Brienne was best friends with the wife.

“Oberyn wanted to be the one to talk to you. I told him that not being a prince anymore won’t make any of his edicts effective. Not to mention that my husband was beginning to sharpen his bloody spear. I figured you’d rather talk to me, Tywin, though I am a woman.” 

Tywin sighed loudly. Ellaria heard it. “You dare to refuse a pregnant woman with swollen ankles?”

Seven Hells. “Fine. Fine.” Tywin pressed the button again.

Ten minutes later, Ellaria Martell strode into the apartment as if she owned it. Tywin briefly recalled she had been a model before getting married, which explained the sharp grace of her hips as she strutted across the wooden floors. She was massively pregnant, but from the lithe way she carried herself, it seemed more an accessory than the burden it appeared to be on most women. Cersei, pregnant with twins, waddled and had a tired look in her eyes all the time. Brienne was redder in the face when she had been pregnant, and was not exactly any more attractive although she did bloom. Margaery, that little, manipulative chit, was still pretty—she clearly thrived in her condition. Ellaria, wearing a flowy dress in a rich shade of emerald threaded with gold curlicues, owned it. Tywin didn’t know whether to fear for her baby or for her as she was wearing four-inch heels. He flashed on a memory of Joanna pregnant. She had been beautiful but very cross. All their children were born in the summer season. The sweltering season had her padding around their room buck-naked with the air conditioners on full-blast. She had frowned at Tywin when he pleaded to turn them down in between sneezes. 

“We haven’t met,” Ellaria stretched out her hand to him. “I’m Ellaria. You’re Tywin.” She wrinkled her nose prettily. 

Tywin took her hand and released it. Crossing his arms, he demanded, “What? Have you come to yell at me too?”

“Is that how you would like to settle this? But if I do that, you’d no doubt think that women are emotional shrews.” Ellaria tilted her head, a dark curl falling over her forehead. Her clear, black eyes assessed him in a way that found him far from satisfactory. “Huh. So this how Jaime will look fifty years from now.”

“Excuse me? I’m seventy-five. Jaime is forty-five.”

“Well, he won’t have as many lines as you do. And those eyes are glaciers, Tywin. Green like Jaime’s but not Jaime’s. Gods, it must freak out Brienne knowing that’s how Jaime will look.” 

“State your business and be done with it. I’m taking care of my grandsons.”

Ellaria put one hand on her waist while the other roamed her belly. “Do you like women, Ty?”

“It’s Tywin, for crying out loud.”

Ellaria rolled her eyes. “Fine. So. Do you?’

“Why does everyone think that my being traditional means I don’t like women?”

“Because you’re not being traditional, you idiot.” She pronounced the last word as ee-dee-yoht. Tywin wondered if the Dornish sounded like they were talking about sex when they were insulting you.

“I’m not close with Margaery but she’s alright. Don’t dismiss her as another pretty thing simply because of her looks and charm, Tywin. If she said she’ll prevent her brothers’ and sister’s children from being exposed to ideas likes yours, count of her to do it. She’s a Tyrell. Roses have thorns.”  
Tywin waved his hand. “Olenna will talk sense to her.”

“Actually, Olenna wants to wring your neck. Apparently she’s a fan of Brienne too. And Olenna was not happy that you had her granddaughter upset. Tyrion wanted to castrate you but Olenna said that at her age, she should have her turn first. Robert swore to Cersei he'd end you if she only asked. Cersei said she couldn't sanction it since it would mean losing the best lawyer around. I had to convince them to let me handle this calmly.”

“What’s this? Is everyone talking about some harmless comment I made?” Tywin demanded. 

“It’s not harmless, Tywin. It’s very telling. Aside from clearly disregarding your gooddaughter’s success, you intend to guilt her into putting Jaime right where you want him to be. Have you wondered why none of your children will have anything to do with Lannister Conglomerate?”

“I gave them too much freedom. I let them do what I wanted, stupidly think that I’d be given what’s owed to me.” Tywin let out a snort of disgust as he sat down on a chair by the dining table. “`A Lannister always pays his debts,’ they say. No anymore.”

“Too much freedom? You never appreciated them. You treated them like business assets. You thought to trade in Cersei’s beauty, for example, when you thought of getting into an arrangement with that damned Aerys Targaryen. But Cersei fought you, didn’t she? And then that business with Jaime and Aerys killed that from happening.” Ellaria began to tick off with her fingers. “Tyrion, the most clever of them, was more interested in doing something for the world through science rather than making the Lannisters even richer. It was dumb luck he got involved with Margaery but in some ways, she’s smarter than your son. And he likes that about her. Meanwhile, all you do is alienate your children with your grand expectations and debts you believe they owe you. You disregard anything they’ve done for themselves.”

“Lannisters as employees. Who knew.” Tywin muttered.

“I don’t believe Jaime would be very forgiving should he find out what you think of Brienne. And what you intend to use her for.”

“Again. State your business, Mrs. Martell.” 

“We’re in the twenty-first century, Tywin, not Aegon’s Conquest. It’s time to get with the program, as they say. You’re surrounded by women admired by many people, but not you. No, that’s not you at all. It’s a shame really. You’re Tywin Lannister. Feared. The lion made man. But with what you’re doing, with the way you think, sooner or later you’ll roaring alone. And no one will hear you.” 

Much as Tywin hated it, the former model nailed some points right on the head. Okay. A lot of points. He was slowly developing a grudging respect for the woman, who met his level stare with a calm, bland gaze. 

They were still staring at each other, like warriors waiting for one of them to make the first move in order to strike when the door opened. Selwyn Tarth let himself in, tossing his keys in a bowl set on a table by the door. A crooked, jovial smile broke across his face when he realized Tywin wasn’t alone. 

“Ellaria. Look at you,” he said fondly, coming toward her with open arms.

Ellaria beamed at him as he hugged her, making sure not to squeeze her too hard. She kissed him on the cheek. “Hello, Selwyn.”

“Why are you standing? Did he offer you refreshments?” Selwyn looked at Tywin disapprovingly.

“Mrs. Martell didn’t give me enough time to make the offer,” Tywin remarked.

“What do you want, Ellaria?” Selwyn asked her. “Tea? Water? Or is it food? I can make you a sandwich.”

“A sandwich sounds divine,” Ellaria declared, smiling at him. 

“Done. Any food you’d like to leave off it?”

“Just no tuna. I can’t really stand tuna right now.”

“I thought to make you an egg sandwich, anyway. Now, have a seat here. Tywin, continue entertaining our guest.” Selwyn instructed as he started rooting in the fridge.

“So. Tywin.” Ellaria told him. She cocked a curved, dark brow. “What do you say?”

Tywin muttered under his breath, “Never piss off a pregnant woman. And duct tape Robert Baratheon’s mouth.” 

Ellaria shrugged. "It's too soon to say if that's progress but that may be something."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're probably wondering why Selwyn is close to the ladies. I think it's because he missed out a lot with Brienne growing up that's why he's making up for it. He sees Brienne in them hence, why he dotes on them and even spoils them sometimes. Meanwhile, Twyin is a party pooper.


	28. The Lion and The Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tywin turns to an unlikely source for advice.

An hour after Ellaria left, Tywin still felt bamboozled. After her initial attack, the Dornish woman had continued with her underhanded, verbal tactics that would have impressed him if he wasn’t the clear target. Selwyn, either oblivious or past caring, had not helped at all, piling on her words and pointedly ignoring the other man unless forced to communicate with him. 

Tywin found himself alone in the apartment. When Drew and Ty woke up from their nap, Selwyn had swooped in and proceeded to dress them and pack them in their joined prams, along with a big bag containing extra clothes, toys, snacks and whatever the children would need. Tywin would have gone with him—he needed to stretch his legs, he was hungry for the sun, but Selwyn did not invite him to join them. Tywin knew when he wasn’t welcome and so had pretended to work on his laptop as Selwyn left with the children.

Alright. So he wasn’t old-fashioned. He was being a misogynistic ass dismissing all that Brienne and the women in his life have accomplished, even more thinking that he could play on his gooddaughter’s strong sense of family and loyalty to get his son working in Lannister Conglomerate once and for all. He was sorry. But being sorry did not come easy for Tywin. He was the lion of Lannister, feared, fierce and feral. His firm, sure steps had resulted in copious amounts of sweat from employees, his glare had unmanned many a strong man, and his words had flayed the strongest among them. He was wrong. He realized it now. But Seven Hells if he was going to apologize.

Unfortunately, there was no one he could talk to about being able to apologize without clearly doing it. Kevan, his brother, had no time for chats while Gerion would laugh at him and never make him forget. Genna, his sister, was just as bad as Olenna Tyrell. Tyrion could probably teach him but given that his son wanted to castrate him for upsetting his wife, he was not a person to turn to right now. Not Cersei. Not Robert. Not even Joffrey, who lately would rather stick his nose in a book than engage in actual conversation. 

Tywin sighed loudly and clicked on a name in Wype. He drummed his fingers impatiently on the cheap, mass-produced desk before Sansa Stark’s face filled the screen. Her auburn hair was pulled back in a loose braid, her peaches-and-cream complexion luminous and clear. Despite not resembling his dearly-missed wife, she had a quality that reminded him of Joanna.

She was the first to speak. “Er, I should’t be talking to you.”

Tywin raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And why is that?”

“Look, I missed the chat last night so I don’t know exactly what happened. But Cersei, Robert, Tyrion and Margaery emailed me. They all told me not to talk to you and. . .and. . .” Sansa blushed, clearly uncomfortable. “Please don’t make me repeat it.”

“Did they all say I’m an ass?” He said blandly.

“Given how high the emotions were in the emails, that’s practically a compliment.” Sansa told him. “Sorry.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Well, if you believe women are just for birthing and taking care of the house, why are you talking to me? Should you be taking advice from a woman?” Her eyes widened mockingly before she crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at him from the screen. The way she was looking made him feel as if he’d been caught red-handed raiding the cookie jar.

“Seven Hells. You’re pissed at me too, aren’t you?” Tywin asked in a resigned tone.

“Who wouldn’t be? It’s a miracle Selwyn didn’t throw you out the window.”

“He will bloody well have to try and I will give him a bloody fight.”

Sansa smirked. Tywin glared at her. “What? You think I can’t do it?”

“Oh, you will. In your head you think it’s going to be a bloody fight, as you say, but this is Selwyn we’re talking about. Is he there? I’d like to thank him for the homemade chocolate chip cookies he sent me. He made them extra gooey, just as I like it.”

“You know, it’s becoming a bigger and bigger mystery why he’s friends with all you women—“ Tywin cleared his throat as Sansa narrowed her eyes at him. “I mean, he’s friends with all of you while you all seem united in going after me with machetes.”

“Selwyn’s a teddy bear. You—well, you’re not the easiest person around, truth to be told. You can’t possibly _not_ know that.”

“A lion doesn’t concern himself with the opinions of sheep.” Tywin said haughtily.

“I’m a Stark of Winterfell. I’m a wolf.”

Selwyn waved his hand. “Including wolves.”

“Then why the hell are you Wyping me?” Sansa demanded.

“You know, you used to be the nanny. You were so quiet and pleasant back then. What happened to that girl?”

“That’s because I was terrified of you. Jaime and Brienne didn’t scare me because they were so lovely and hands down, the best bosses I’ve ever had. You just sucked the life out of every room you’re in.”

“That’s unfair. I definitely don’t deserve that.”

“Tough. You’re too old to whine.”

“I’m not whining!”

Sansa studied her manicured fingernails. “So you say. What do you want from me, Tywin?”

“That’s Ms. Lannister to you.”

“Excuse me but you’re not my boss. And you have no right to demand that I address you properly when you have such a low opinion of my gender. We’re not too smart, after all. You shouldn’t make such impossible demands.”

“This tongue of yours. Did you learn this from my son?”

“You mean Jaime? Or Tyrion? What makes you think I learned this from a man? What makes you think I’m like this because of a man?”

“Dear gods,” Tywin groaned.

“Nah. I’ve always been like this. My sister Arya’s worse, though. You’d throw yourself out of the window because of her. Also my brother Bran. You might like my older brother Robb. He’s quiet and contemplative but he’s, like, got the judgmental stare down pat. My youngest brother Rickon would sic one of our direwolves on you. Pretty brutal but effective.”

“Well. Then the Seven does have some mercy in ensuring you’re the only Stark I come across.”

“I doubt that the Seven are being merciful towards me being as you’re talking to me.” 

Tywin frowned. “That’s rude.”

Sansa shrugged. “It’s not as bad as how lowly you think of Brienne’s profession. Or the women in your life.”

“I don’t hate women. I certainly don’t think their achievements are any less. Why does no one understand that I believe in specific gender roles?” Tywin roared in frustration.

“Gender roles, my ass.” Sansa scoffed. “Please, anything a man can do a woman does.”

“Women can’t have children without a man,” Tywin challenged weakly.

“Oh, yes they can. They can adopt. Or go to the nearest sperm bank. They don’t really need a man as before.” Sansa smirked at him. “So, you see, Tywin, woman do everything now. Actually, they always have, come to think of it. And we’re made stronger. Why were men barred from the birthing chamber before, you know? And--”

“Alright, alright. I yield.” Tywin grumbled, glaring at her. 

“Listen, I hope this doesn’t go on too long. I’ll be moderating one of the lectures tomorrow so I need to read up on it.”

“I want to get them all together,’ Tywin began, clearing his throat. He wished he hadn’t worn a turtleneck sweater now. “Here. I want them to know I’ve seen the error of my ways without having to apologize. How do I do that?”

Sansa Stark looked like she’d just been whacked in the head. “What?”

“I’m asking for advice,” Tywin said impatiently. “I’m wrong, alright? I won’t apologize for being traditional but it certainly doesn’t mean I think nothing of Brienne’s achievements. Or my daughter’s. Or any other woman. And given that everyone now knows how I intend to use Brienne---“

Sansa cocked an eyebrow at him. Tywin cleared his throat again. “I mean, it’s time to use a different tactic—“

 _“Excuse me?”_ Sansa looked like she had the power to grab him from the screen and give him a neck-breaking shake. 

“I mean to say,” he said in a hard voice, looking at her stonily. “I mean that I won’t be manipulating her. Or won’t be manipulating anyone again. If the children don’t want to work at Lannister Conglomerate, fine. If they do, then that’s fine. I won’t engage in underhanded, guerrilla tactics to get them, you have my word.”

“Oh-kaay.” Sansa said slowly. She was digesting his words, turning them over in her head, frowning prettily as she did. “But why are you asking for my advice?”

“I don’t think you’re as disgusted of me like everyone else.” Tywin admitted. “And you’re too far away to do me any bodily harm.”

“Robert’s actually demanding everyone to have him make an oath to kill you. Cersei's trying to convince him to make another oath being that if one of us succeeds in ending you, Robert's our best hope to get acquitted.” Sansa chewed her lip thoughtfully. “If I’m not mistaken, Renly has a few, shall we say, interesting individuals on speed dial. Yeah, he was also in the Wype conference last night. Emailed me too. Told us they’re just on standby, all any of had to do is say the word.”

Renly Baratheon. Tywin shuddered inwardly. That pretty tulip could be more dangerous than Robert. Brienne once mentioned that Renly had dossiers on all faculty and students and wouldn’t hesitate to use them. And it was Robert who had gathered the information. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to have the Baratheon connection through Cersei.

“So, with the question of me doing you bodily harm, I wouldn’t dismiss it so easily,” Sansa told him loftily, smiling.

“Remind me to offer you a job at Lannister Conglomerate when you’re done with grad school,” Tywin told her with grudging respect. The girl’s beauty rendered her harmless but she actually had claws and wouldn’t hesitate to use them. “So. How do I tell them I’m wrong without having to apologize?”

“Why don’t you want to apologize?”

Tywin, who had never blushed in his life, suddenly felt his cheeks go hot. He looked at the ceiling, down his shirt, at the photo of Jaime and Brienne on their wedding day. It was a black-and-white photo yet there was no mistaking the blush on Brienne’s cheeks, with Jaime leaning toward her and his lips close to her ear, no doubt whispering something embarrassing. Next, Tywin looked at his shoes.

“Tywin.” Sansa was clapping her hands, trying to get his attention. “Tywin!”

He looked back at her. “So. What do you think I should do?”

“Why don’t you apologize?”

“I do have my pride,” he said woundedly.

Sansa rolled her eyes. “You lions and your pride. Even when you’re wrong you don’t want to admit it, don’t you?”

“People tend to not forget when you do wrong.”

“When they’re jerks. You think your daughter and son and their families are jerks? Do you think I’m a jerk?”

“You relish giving me a hard time,” he accused her.

Sansa looked annoyingly proud. “Well. Not everyone can get away with talking to you the way I do and live to tell the tale. Besides, I don’t blab. Gods, if I were a jackass I’d have sold my story to the nearest tabloid and I won’t have to worry about student loans for the rest of my life.”

Tywin had to admit that was true. Due to her former employment with his son and his wife, Sansa Stark had been privy to a lot of goings-on with the Lannisters. Tywin had advised she should have been made to sign a non-disclosure agreement, which Jaime found to be a hoot. “It’s not like Brienne and I keep a sex swing and other BDSM paraphernalia or anything we’d mind people knowing about,” he pointed out. They lucked out on the Stark girl—she was loyal and honourable. Rare qualities these days. Well, there was a Brienne. But she was a Lannister so she _had_ to be quiet about whatever went on behind closed doors. 

“Tywin,” Sansa said a little more gently, as if speaking to a child. “They won’t think less of you if you apologize. I think they might even admire you for it. It’s not everyday Tywin Lannister admits he’s an asshole—“

“Careful, now,”Tywin told her coolly. “Just because I turn to you for advice—“

“Actually, it’s _because_ you want my advice why I can talk to you this way so you’re going to be a good boy and listen. Will you do that for me?”

“This is how you talk to my grandsons?”

“Works on men of all ages. Just not my Dad. But,” Sansa added with a shrug, “he’s a sharp one.”

“Your glowing opinion of other men makes me so glad to be one of them,” Tywin told her drily.

“Tywin Lannister,” Sansa said with a laugh. “You can dish it but you just don’t want to take it, don’t you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Personally, I'm enjoying how Margaery, Ellaria and Sansa are giving Tywin a hard time. As they should!


	29. Stripped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. . .it's not what you think.

Navigating in the dark was difficult, more so when going on uneven terrain. Brienne, having gone on numerous treks when she was younger, had practice and could almost see in the dark. She had to walk ahead of Jaime, cautioning him to walk only where she did and to remain close. Much of the Riverlands was still uncharted forest. Even experts were known to get hurt, lost, or worse. 

Brienne offered her hand and Jaime took it. They were approaching a somewhat steep incline. Jaime couldn’t really recall climbing something like this the previous night. Fucking did that to him—it tend to obliterate all else except the memory of his wife sighing his name, the heat of their kisses, their frantic coupling. At least his muscles weren’t too sore. He was grateful he was still able to squeeze in a modicum of exercise in spite of children and being a stay-at-home dad. Also, fucking Brienne was a workout itself. He smiled at her back as she walked ahead of him. 

After bathing in the river, they spent the rest of the afternoon fucking in their tent. Long and drawn-out rather than their usual, race-against-time way, Jaime had never felt so satisfied in his life. He was addicted to her grunts and shouts, wore with pride the bruises she edt him. He loved her weight on him when they rested between their carnal bouts and talked lazily. 

They talked about their children. Drew and Ty were precocious kids and seemed to delight in one-upping the other so it wasn’t clear yet who took after which parent in terms of personality. Brienne wished they could go home sooner as she missed her darling angels. Jaime admitted that he felt the same. He played with the short strands of her pale blond hair as he spoke, looked in her soft, sapphire eyes. His wife really had astonishing eyes, he thought.

They didn’t just make love the entire afternoon—they went through the rest of the questionnaire too. Again, Brienne climbed first, stomping her foot on the ground to make sure it was firm and would hold. Then she turned to Jaime and gave him a hand again. He grasped it and let her pull him—she was so strong and solid, he thought admiringly. 

As Brienne turned away, Jaime put a hand on the very slight indent of her waist. “How much farther?” He was a little breathless.

“Five miles, I believe, more or less.” Brienne turned to him. “We can sit down for a bit, if you want.”

For once, Jaime didn’t feel the need to guard his pride. He nodded and led her toward one of the rock formations on the ground that would make a suitable seat. As Brienne sank down heavily, he handed her a thermos of water. He joined her as she glugged the cool liquid in relief then gave it to him. He tipped the jug towards his lips and drank, swallowing heavily. As he capped it, she put her head on his shoulder. His arm went around her so he could hold her closer.

Though solid and strong, Brienne also felt soft. Jaime wished they had more than flashlight to rely on so he could look in her eyes. They would be soft sapphires now, he thought, kissing her sweaty forehead. She lifted her head a bit, offering him her full, thick lips, her wide mouth. Jaime eagerly pressed a kiss there, liking their plump, pillowy feel. 

Kissing Brienne was both soothing and fiery. There was no doubt that Jaime would always have need of his wife—he was long resigned that his cock would twitch in her presence until settled deep in the home of her cunt. Equal to that was his reliance on her honesty and loyalty, his faith in her love no matter what. Brienne was the only person whose opinion he cared for, and their sons, of course, as soon as they got more verbose. He nipped at her swollen lower lip playfully before reluctantly pulling away from her. His hand was on her warm cheek and he really wished he could see her blush right now. 

His knees were shaking a little when he stood up and offered her his hand. He smiled at Brienne’s effect on him though he wouldn’t want her to know that. She already had so much power over him without having to do anything. It felt good to be the one to give her a hand this time, Jaime thought as their fingers intertwined, their rough palms pressed against each other. He kissed her knuckles before letting go so she could lead him again.

The talked quietly, inserting a laugh as they continued their way—or in Brienne’s case, a gasp of surprise and a half-hearted reprimand when Jaime pinched her on the ass. Or when he grabbed her for a greedy kiss, cupping the slight curve of her breasts. He nuzzled her throat, nipped at her skin playfully. She slapped him on the shoulder and laced her fingers through his so they were walking side-by-side. The air was cool, thick with the scent of leaves and earth, made fragrant by Brienne’s clean, fresh scent of soap and musk. 

Soon, they spied the familiar column of fires leading to Melisandre’s lair, as they’d taken to calling it. This time, it was Jaime leading Brienne, still keeping her hand in his. 

“Welcome, Lannisters,” Melisandre greeted them as soon as they emerged from the forest. She looked at her watch and smiled at them. “You’re early tonight, I see.” She was wearing another white dress.

Jaime smirked as he heard Brienne blush. Steering her to their seat, he sat down next to her.

“We know our way around better, I guess,” he answered, drawing Brienne’s hand to his lap.

“We’re in for a couple of things tonight,” Melisandre announced, getting right down to business. “But I have to ask. Are you finished with the questionnaire?”

Brienne nodded, smiling at Jaime. “Finally.”

“What did you find out about your spouse?” Melisandre asked.

Brienne glanced at Jaime, who nodded that she go first. 

“Jaime is the surest person I know. He makes a decision, he doesn’t second-guess himself. He kind of bulldozes through things. Well, you do!” Brienne exclaimed with a laugh when Jaime shook his head. Yet his eyes twinkled at her. Brienne’s laugh was a loud, wheezing sound, not that of silver bells. Damn but Jaime loved that sound. It was right up there when she moaned his name as he fucked her, or when she was cooing at their sons. 

“I love that about him although I think he would benefit being a little doubtful every now and then. He’s so impulsive sometimes. The thing is, I’ve always thought he was unbothered by it—and there isn’t a lot that bothers this man,” Brienne added, making Jaime snort in disagreement. “So it really surprised me when he said that one the things he wishes to change about himself is how quick he arrives at a decision and goes on with it. He doesn’t believe in regrets but he thinks that sometime, maybe a long a time from now or not, who knows, he will start having regrets. He’s a man who lives by and for the moment so I didn’t expect that he’d be the sort who wishes to take things slowly sometimes, to leave room for discernment.”

“Why do you wish to change that about yourself, Jaime?” Melisandre asked.

Brienne looked at him, her eyes gold and luminous against the flames surrounding them. Jaime shot her an intimate, sexy grin before turning to Melisandre.

“It seems that time’s become faster now that I’m a father. Before Brienne came along, I wasn’t what you’d describe as someone who had definite plans—or any plans. There was LSM Creatives and I like what I do there but I wasn’t as into it until Brienne. We were engaged for a while—five years because neither of us were in a great rush and we wanted to achieve things on our own before getting married. Since our sons were born, it’s like time suddenly shot forward. They’re two years old now. It seems only yesterday when she was pregnant,” Jaime added, glancing at Brienne, his eyes warming. “And now Drew and Ty are walking and talking and eating shoes. And I’ve always made decisions quickly. I’m worried that it’s going to bite me in the ass at some point. Like, since I didn’t give enough time, it blows up in my face.”

“What’s the nature of things that you decide on pretty quickly?”

“Everything.”

Melisandre looked at him. “Everything? Really?”

Jaime planted his hand on Brienne’s knee and squeezed it. “I knew she was it from the moment her shoe hit me. We slept together before we went on our first date—“

Brienne howled, “Jaime!”

“—and I introduced her to my family before we had our first date. There was just no slowing down until I asked her to marry me. The whole time we were engaged, I was bugging her to just fly to Braavos—“

“Of which I was very amenable to—“

“But I didn’t want a shabby, rushed wedding. It’s not that I don’t like how fast my mind works—“

“Husband, making quick decisions doesn’t exactly mean you’re fast—“ Brienne tried to counter but he talked over her, smiling hugely.

“But,” he added, serious now. “I’m worried that by being fast I miss out on a lot, you know? I guess that’s why I volunteered to stay home with Drew and Ty,” he told Brienne. “Work’s asking a lot of me, a lot of them split-decision thinking all day and it sometimes goes way past work hours. I don’t want to miss anything with our sons, Brienne.”

Brienne shook her head. “No, you won’t, Jaime. I promise you.”

Melisandre found herself blushing at the way they were looking at each other. It was so hot they could power the entire Westeros. 

“Um, what about you, Brienne? Is there anything about yourself you’d like to change?”

Brienne grimaced. “Do you have all night?”

Melisandre smiled at her kindly. “Come on now. It can’t be that many.”

She noted that Jaime put a protective arm around Brienne’s shoulders.

Out of all the questions, Jaime hated the one about changing one thing about the self. Brienne didn’t just want to change one thing. She confessed to Jaime that generally, she had buried all angst and anger she had about her looks but her insecurities still crept up. He knew she hated most formal events that forced her in a dress as she was never comfortable in them, that she couldn’t stand it when people did a rude, obvious double-take upon finding out she was his wife. 

Alright. So Brienne wasn’t conventionally attractive. But no one had eyes like hers—even their sons could not rival the breathtaking brilliance of her sapphire blues. Her freckles on her pale skin reminded Jaime of rich, raspberry cream dessert. She was intelligent, with a mind as sharp and sure as Valyrian steel, hard-working, steadfast, loyal—even her stubbornness he found admirable, never mind that it annoyed him lots of times. She had the gentlest hands, the warmest touches. Most of all, she loved him—him, the spoiled, arrogant, wise-cracking Jaime Lannister. This alone made her most beautiful to him. 

As Brienne narrated her insecurities to Melisandre and how terrified she felt letting Jaime in on them, Jaime found himself once again awed by her bravery, by her big heart. His wife did not have it easy—she was never going to have it as easy as him—but he will fight this battle with her, remind her every hour what was beautiful about her. Everyday the list got longer. 

When Brienne finished, she looked at Jaime with her big, beautiful eyes. He brushed his knuckles on her cheek and whispered in her ear: “I love you.”

“The question is for putting our insecurities on the table without fear or judgment,” Melisandre explained. “Your answers revealed much about your character—it’s a deeper insight to your spouse and also to the depth of your trust for you to know this about your spouse. So how do you feel knowing that these are things that tend to hound your spouse? Either of you may answer first.”

“It doesn’t make me see Jaime any less, that’s for sure. I think it’s wonderful he would like to slow things down but I don’t want him to be so worried about what he’ll be missing out on. He won’t.” Brienne smiled at him. 

“My wife is brave for letting me know about her insecurities.” Jaime declared. “I think no matter how long you’ve been together or how well you know each other, it’s never easy telling, `this is what I don’t like about myself.’ What if it’s what your partner doesn’t like either? Brienne’s got a really hard head but hey, that’s one of the things that makes her my Brienne.”

“The questionnaire also asks about your greatest fear. What did you find out?”

“Regrets, disappointing my wife, not being there for my children, failing at redeeming my name—“ The incident with Aerys Targaryen may be years ago but Jaime still hated how people still talked about it, let alone bring it up whenever he was in the room. “—and snakes.”

“We can’t be perfect all the time, Jaime. But should you disappoint me, you have my word to never leave,” Briene whispered. “And as for your redemption, you’re well on your way. You’re the best in your field of work.”

Jaime took her hands to his lips and kissed it gratefully.

“What about you, Brienne?”

“Not being a good wife. Not being a good mother. Not getting tenured. Regrets.” Brienne shifted closer to Jaime. “Not having said `I love you’ enough.”

She needn’t worry about any of those things, Jaime thought.

Melisandre seemed to brace herself. “What about the question of. . .final arrangements should it happen that one of you is incapable of making health decisions?”

Yeah, that was a question Jaime hated above all. The idea of the Stranger come for them or one of them. He knew he couldn’t face life without Brienne and hoped that if any of the gods would be merciful, he’d be taken first. But only after he’d had a long, fulfilling life. For him to see and play with a couple of grandchildren, at least. 

Brienne did not like the question either. They had held each other tightly after sharing their answers.

“We both agreed that it shouldn’t be. . .prolonged.” Brienne stumbled over the word. “It’s already in our insurance. We both have the Do Not Resuscitate clause.”

“We talked about it a week after we brought Drew and Ty home from the hospital.” Jaime said. “In case both of us die, our sons would be raised by Brienne’s dad and uncles in Tarth.”

“Tyrion, Jaime’s brother, has his own family and so does his sister Cersei. . .we want our children to be in an environment where they won’t feel they have to compete with other children.” 

Jaime remembered the day they signed all the necessary paperwork, witnessed by Addam Marbrand and Oberyn Martell, Robert Baratheon their lawyer. After their guests left the apartment, Jaime and Brienne had continued to sit in silence in their kitchen. She was the first to reach for his hand.

“It will always be a shit time having to do this,” she told him.

He nodded, putting her hand between his. “But it doesn’t make it any easier.”

Now, they were looking at each other helplessly. Jaime kissed her on the cheek. 

Brienne, leaning closer to him, told Melisandre, “If I get incapacitated, Jaime knows that I shouldn’t be resuscitated. And I wish to be cremated with my ashes thrown to the sea, back in Tarth.”

“It’s the same thing with me,” Jaime said. 

Melisandre frowned. “But you’re not from Tarth?”

“I follow where my wife goes.” 

Jaime said it firmly, so firmly that it left no room for questions. 

It was a heavy, emotional beginning for their session. Melisandre decided to call for a break and asked if there was any refreshment or snack she could get them. As Brienne shook her head, Jaime said, “Well, cheeseburger would be nice.”

Brienne rolled her eyes while Melisandre laughed. “I can throw in a tuna sandwich, Jaime, but that’s it. And there’s beer, soda. . .”

“He’ll take the sandwich. No alcohol. No sugar. It’ll be bedtime when we get back to the camp,” Brienne reminded Jaime, who pretended to sulk.

“What about you, Brienne?” Melisandre asked, going through the cooler. 

“I’m okay, thanks.” 

After Melisandre gave Jaime his sandwich, she excused herself. Jaime was glad that Brienne continued to sit close to him, her leg touching his. The fire made her skin glow pink, almost close to the body blush that warmed her skin after orgasm, he thought, feeling himself getting hard. He offered Brienne half his sandwich, who shook her head. She really wasn’t hungry, she told him.

“So, what do you think she’ll have us do next?” Brienne asked him quietly, keeping her voice low. 

“Hopefully no more questions. Damn, that questionnaire was difficult, wasn’t it? Especially the one dealing with death.” Jaime took a last bite of the sandwich. “I’d be glad if she just has us lift telephone poles or climb trees rather than talk like that again. It pulled a lot out of me and you know how I practically have no filter system.”

Brienne giggled. “That you don’t, husband.”

When Melisandre returned ten minutes later, she looked serious once again. Jaime and Brienne sat up, feeling the tension in the air.

“The questionnaire was an exercise in trust,” she told them. “Trust is difficult to build yet it can be broken much easier. So far, your trust is solid—that’s quite rare. But how far does it go, I wonder? For example, what’s your stand on secrets? Should you know all your spouse’s secrets or should some things be left a mystery?”

“I want to know everything, of course,” Jaime answered. “You should know each other’s deepest, darkest secret.”

“No. You don’t have to tell each other everything. You should be allowed to keep some things for yourself.” Brienne looked at Jaime, startled at his response then at Melisandre. “Uh, right?”

Melisandre was practically giddy with excitement. “Let’s talk about your next exercise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you're curious about Jaime and Brienne's secrets, you can check out Then Came You and False, Positive. They're buried there :-) I hope you enjoyed this chapter.


	30. Show Me Yours?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime tries to convince Brienne to spill some secrets.

“That means you have something to hide,” Jaime declared. He scrambled down after his wife as he spoke, almost losing his hold on a tree stump sticking out of the ground. Though it was dark, he knew that Brienne was glaring at him. Her breaths were rapid, round puffs that reminded him of a bull ready to charge. 

“No. It means I believe in keeping some things for myself,” Brienne told him as she turned around and continued walking ahead of him. She was stomping away way too fast but Jaime was not about to call at her to slow down. 

Grunting under his breath, he aimed the flashlight ahead of him and continued following her in the thick darkness of the forest. Brienne’s tall, broad form flitted easily between the trees. Jaime caught his ankle on a root and tripped. “Hells,” he muttered, straightening up. 

“Wife,” Jaime thought to tease her. “Is this about your submarine-size feet? That’s not really a secret. We wear the same shoe size. Or is it your cup size you don’t want me to know about? Your tits are a very pert, sexy A--”

He had no idea he was following her so closely until she turned around, practically knocking him on the nose. For a moment, all he could see were her big, blue eyes flashing with annoyance.

“Jaime, would you let this go? I don’t agree with knowing everything about anyone. People are entitled to keep things to themselves.” She sounded weary.

“You know everything about me,” Jaime said. “You know about Aerys, you know I don’t like pickles, that blue is my favorite color.” Grinning, he grabbed her by the waist and pressed against her. “You know the size of my cock,” he whispered suggestively.

“Jaime Lannister,” Brienne sounded a little breathless. “Now is not the time to talk about that.”

“Too bad. I’m thinking of ways to seduce you into giving up all your deepest secrets, wife.” He leaned toward her for a kiss. Guffawing loudly, Brienne shoved him on the chest and resumed walking. 

What are you afraid of?” He unperturbed and relentless. “What deep, dark secrets does my wife have that she doesn’t want me to know about, I wonder?”

“Melisandre did say I don’t have to participate if I’m uncomfortable. I am. But to be fair to you, since I won’t be sharing any of my so-called deep, dark secrets, then you shouldn’t either. I know you well, husband. You’re going to demand and whine and then guilt me into sharing secrets with you. When they don’t work, you will seduce me.”

Jaime grinned as they approached their campsite. “Well, seducing you is effective, wife.”

“What makes you think I won’t seduce you out of the idea?” Brienne pointed out, speaking over her shoulder.

He held out his arms to the sides, grinning. “You’re more than welcome to try.”

Brienne gave him a side-eye and let herself in the tent.  
Jaime slipped in after her. When he entered, Brienne had turned on their battery-powered lantern. She was now pulling off her jacket and unbuttoning her shirt. She glanced at Jaime, who was smirking at her, dimples deep.

 _“What.”_ She growled.

“If you’re going to seduce me out of wanting to know your secrets, wife, I request a striptease.” He said innocently. 

“I’m not seducing you. I’m tired and sleepy. And no, Jaime, I will not tell you everything about myself. If you want to tell me everything about you then do so. But don’t expect me to do the same.”

“Why the hell not? It’s only fair.”

“I don’t want to. Isn’t that reason enough?”

Brienne turned away from him as she dragged her tank top off next. Jaime swallowed at the gorgeous display of freckles, moonlight skin and muscles. Totally unaware of her effect on her poor husband, she pulled at her belt, unzipped and began to lower her pants. 

Pregnancy had softened the hard angles of Brienne’s body but her buttocks and thighs were still firm and defined. Jaime attacked his clothes despite knowing that she wasn’t in the mood tonight. Nevertheless, once naked, he fell on the sleeping bag beside her and wrapped an arm around her waist. To his relief, she let him hold her, a barely-discernible hum of satisfaction escaping her lips. No matter how much he pushed his wife's buttons, she could never hide her response to him. It was a heady feeling.

“You know I was just teasing, right?” Jaime asked, running his lips around the soft shell of her freckled ear. He nipped it, breathing deeply as he did.

“Sometimes it’s too much,” Brienne answered. “And now though I’m tired and sleepy I can’t sleep because I know you’ll launch a sneak attack or something.”

“Give me some credit, wife. I like to tease but I don’t enjoy forcing you to do something you clearly don’t like. It does make me curious what you don’t want me knowing.” 

Casually, his hand climbed to her breast and plucked at a nipple. His green eyes were knowing and sure as she trembled at his touch, still responsive as ever.“Is it a secret affair, hmm? A kink you don’t want me to know about?”

Brienne groaned, burying her face in her arm. “You’re doing it again.”

Jaime laughed and kissed her on the shoulder. “Sorry. I love teasing you too much. Do you want me to make up for it with silence?”

“It’s a decent starting offer.”

As Brienne softened in his arms, Jaime continued to kiss her and lick her on the nape and behind the ear. When his hand slid from her breasts down to her stomach and lower, she grabbed it and returned it to her waist. 

“One of us is trying to sleep, Jaime.” She scolded him.

And because they were naked and in what passed for a bed in the wild, because he was happily helpless to his body’s response in her presence, because she said his name, he buried his lips on her shoulder with a throaty groan. His cock began to rise against her buttocks.

“Can I tell you something, wife?” He asked in between licking her skin.

"Even if I say no, you won't shut up."She was squirming but not pushing him away.

“Promise you won’t use this secret against me?”

“Will you let me sleep?”

Jaime grinned against her skin and held her tighter. “You sound _so fucking sexy_ when you say my name. It should be illegal.”

He couldn’t see her face but her smug voice told him everything. “I know that already.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Gods, Jaime—“

“See? You’re taking advantage.” He playfully bit her shoulder and sucked at the muscle and supple skin.

“You’re not going to let me sleep, are you?” Jaime had to bite back a laugh at Brienne’s irritation. He clamped his teeth on his lower lip as she swiftly turned around. Her eyes were narrow and glaring at him so sharply they were equivalent to sapphire swords.

He put a fist under his chin while his other hand roamed her stomach. His fingers walked up the expanse until he could touch her breasts. He kissed her on the cheek as he fondled a breast, coaxing a nipple to tightness.“Alright. Tell me.”

“You seriously don’t remember? It was the night. . .” Brienne turned violently red as he pinched her nipple. She arched off the bed with a moan then yanked his hand away from her breasts sternly. “You know. The night we first saw each other after meeting in the hospital. You said something like hoping we see each other more because you like how I say your name. I said you have a weird kink.”

"That night.” Jaime allowed himself a smile. “I invited you over for dinner. You arrived with your eyes and there was nothing else left to do but fuck. That was so fucking hot. You were screaming. You wouldn’t let go of my cock.” He rubbed his erection against her thigh.

“You’re impossible. Now I’m going to sleep.” Brienne told him, once again presenting her back. “And if you try to keep me from it once again you’re sleeping outside with the snakes.”

Jaime pouted. “You wouldn’t be so cruel, wife.”

“Then don’t test me. Good night.” Brienne said. Then in a low voice that was silk to his ear, she added, _"Jaime."_

“You should at least blow me for torturing me like this,” Jaime complained jokingly. His arm fell possessively around her waist as he tucked her against his chest. “Or let me taste you.”

“Let me remind you that I outweigh you by twenty pounds, I bench press more than you do and I’m taller. I can dump you outside without raising a sweat.”

Jaime sighed loudly and closed his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jaime, Jaime, Jaime. How are you still alive.


	31. Conference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scheming and a naked bastard comes out of the bag. So to speak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Finally! An update!
> 
> Thank you so much for your comments, for reading, for your kudos! I think I might be able to update more this week. :-)

“. . .so that’s what we talked about,” Sansa said, speaking from the screen. She helped herself to one of the carrot sticks she had been eating in between updating the group about her conversation with Tywin.

Cersei rolled her eyes and said to Robert, “Typical father. He makes a mistake but doesn’t want to own up to it.” She turned her attention back to the faces on the screen. She was having a Wype group conference with Sansa, Tyrion and Margaery and Ellaria. 

“To be fair,” Sansa said, nibbling on another carrot stick, “He did sound contrite, Cersei.”

“I don’t understand,” Ellaria spoke up. Here was another blooming pregnant woman. Cersei wanted to scream. She was forty-five years old—shouldn’t she at least look like she was having fun carrying twins at her age? Margaery, damn her, was breezing through her pregnancy, and her thick, brown hair was lustrous as ever, her alabaster skin glowing even more. Ellaria, well, she had the advantage of being a fashion model. She was put on this earth to make even beautiful women like Cersei hate themselves. Didn’t any of them have swollen ankles? Didn’t they unintentionally pass gas, lost control of their bladder? 

“If he is sorry, why doesn’t he want to apologize?” Ellaria asked, frowning. Despite her expression, Cersei thought she could still sell makeup and women would be beating each other up emptying the shelves, all thinking they could look like her. Ellaria Martell was that stunning. 

“Lannister pride,” Tyrion said, sounding bored. Margaery nodded beside him, her eyes big.

“I don’t care if he’s your father,” she told Tyrion before turning to Cersei, “but I refuse to have any of our children and my nephews and future niece exposed to his way of thinking. And the way he thinks to manipulate poor, dear Brienne?”

“Brienne is a lot more capable of holding her own against Tywin, Marge,” Robert assured her. Cersei narrowed her eyes at him. With Margaery, he was all about reassurance. With her, his wife, mother of his son and soon-to-be-born twins, he was all about sighs about his headaches and aching back. “I wouldn’t be worried so much.”

“Well, I know she is. But what do you think Jaime will do if he finds out?” Margaery looked at each of them. 

“He is a little too protective,” Ellaria admitted.

“He’s the Lion of Lannister,” Tyrion agreed.

Margaery looked at him and said passionately, “No, you are, Tyr.”

“I’m afraid not, Miss Tyrell,” Tyrion said, smiling at her. “One has to be six-foot-two to snarl and roar and put the fear of the Seven in all mortals.”  
If she didn’t put a stop to this, her brother and his wife would be cooing disgustingly like horny teenagers, Cersei thought, annoyed. “Alright. Here’s what we’re going to do.”

“Whatever it is,” Ellaria said, waving her hand, “I’m out. I have to be. Oberyn’s been sharpening his spear collection since he found out about Tywin and I’m afraid if I don’t cut myself off, he’ll go after that aging lion with one of them.”

“Oh, why stop your husband?” Robert asked, grinning. “That would be one hell of a showdown. The lion and the viper.”

Ellaria cocked an eyebrow gracefully. “Why don’t you do it?”

“He’s not going to. I forbid you,” Cersei told Robert. Then, with exaggerated patience, she said, “If father feels bad but doesn’t want to apologize, my suggestion is we do as we told him. Margaery, you said you don’t want your children and nephews involved. Well, why don’t we have some sort of gathering here and invite only Selwyn and the boys?”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Sansa said.

“I love it,” Margaery said, smiling beautifully. “Give Tywin a taste of how it is when people can’t stand him.”

“Oh, he knows that very well,” Tyrion said. “But not from family. He just lays down the law and then my brother, sister and I sneak around for ways to break it. This is the first time we strike him right in the face.”

“We haven’t seen each other in a while, after all,” Cersei reasoned. Inwardly, she was humming with pride at how they were receptive to her idea. “We can have a lunch here at our place this Sunday. I would love to see Selwyn, honestly. He’s the one who forwarded me a list of coaches who specialize in yoga for pregnant women. I’m very grateful for that.”

“Oooh, I would love to do yoga but it’s just not for me.” Margaery said. “Those positions scare me and I applaud that you know how to do them, Cersei. Me, I’m okay with just walking.”

“I didn’t know you do yoga,” Robert told Cersei.

“If you’ll stop complaining about all those aches and pains, I’ll ask you to join me,” Cersei said. Turning her attention back to the screen, she continued, “We’ll make a celebration out of it. Why don’t we have a lunch in honor of Selwyn?”

“Oh, I wish I were there!” Sansa said wistfully.

“He will love that idea,” Ellaria said, nodding. “And it will seriously piss off Tywin.”

“Well, we Lannisters are experts at pissing off the mighty king,” Tyrion said, shooting Cersei a thumbs-up sign. 

“So, Ellaria, how about it?” Cersei asked her. “It’s just a meal shared among friends. Surely Oberyn wouldn’t be tempted to bring his spear to this.” To the rest, she said, “Let’s make it a potluck. I’m in charge of the lasagna, roast duck and salad and you all just figure out what you want to bring.”  
“An invitation like that, I won’t refuse. Brienne loves your roast duck so my husband and I will definitely be there,” Ellaria said, beaming. 

“Nice of you to make plans while I freeze here and eat nothing but instant noodles,” Sansa grumbled.

“Speaking of food, any cravings we have to take note of? Any food we shouldn’t serve?” Tyrion asked.

“No tuna, no fish of any kind for me right now,” Ellaria said.

Cersei winced. “Uh, I can’t stand beef right now.”

Robert let out a whoop. “Thank the gods.”

“I can eat anything,” Margaery said. “But it’s my blood sugar I have to watch out for. I’d volunteer to make the dessert but inflicting something flourless and sugarless on you would be cruel.” Then she perked up. “I can make my turkey meatballs stuffed with mozzarella.”

“Oooh,” Cersei groaned, imagining herself taking a bite out of it. “Do, do.”

“Oberyn makes a mean Dornish stir-fry. But I’ll tell him to go easy on the spices,” Ellaria offered. “As for dessert, hmm. . .maybe cheesecake? Raspberry cheesecake?” 

“Make me feel more bad, please,” Sansa complained. 

“Sorry, dear,” Cersei told her. “But why don’t you Wype us during Sunday lunch?”

Sansa narrowed her eyes. “You forget that I’m only eating instant noodles here.”

Robert frowned. “That’s not a proper meal, Sansa. Let alone nutritious.”

“You have to take good care of your health,” Cersei added, shaking her head in disapproval. “You’re young but your body will pay for it later. At least you’re eating carrots. That’s a good, healthy snack— _what is that?_ ” She cried out, pointing behind Sansa as a very impressive, _very lickable_ six-pack began to approach her.

At Cersei’s shocked expression, Sansa turned around to look behind her. Her shout of surprise pierced their ears. “Jon! What the hell are— _why are you naked?”_

“Jon?” Margaery echoed, squinting.

“Jon—“Robert began to say but Cersei beat him to it.

“Jon Snow?” She gasped as Sansa got up from her chair and tried to push a very naked Jon Snow out of the room, hissing at him and beating her little fists on his chest. Jon, howling in protest in between chuckles, were giving the ladies a full view of his high, perky backside and his cock swinging and bobbing at his movements. Cersei grinned and leaned closer to the screen. 

“Cersei Lannister!” Jon Snow exclaimed, waving at her from the screen. He was clearly unbothered by his nakedness. “I swear to the gods you are just breathtaking—“

“Really?” Sansa growled, punching him on the shoulder and pushing him out of the room and away from the computer screen. Their loud argument drifted from everyone’s laptop speakers. 

As everyone scratched their heads trying to understand what just happened, Robert turned Cersei. A deep frown formed on his handsome, rugged face.

“Cersei _Lannister?_ ” He inquired coolly. “Why is that naked man very happy to see you?”

Cersei shrugged innocently. "I deal with naked men all day, my heart. I can say for a fact that none of them are displeased to see me.”


	32. Not A Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime clarifies some things to Brienne.

Looking up from throwing soil over their morning fire, Brienne looked up at Jaime. Frowning, she tilted her head and said, “Let me see if I heard this right. You will learn survival skills and in return I answer your questions?”

“You can also ask me,” Jaime offered. He made a face at the remains of the rations he was eating before putting it away. “You should ask me.”  
Frown deepening, Brienne slowly straightened up. The morning was warm so she was dressed only in her tank and her pants. Jaime would rather have her naked and not standing but he liked the view nevertheless. Strong woman, lean muscles, blue eyes. 

“And what’s the nature of the questions you’ll be asking me, Jaime? I already told you I don’t believe in couples knowing everything about each other.”

“And I tell you I want us to know everything about each other. Come on, wife,” Jaime said, not wanting to play the last card. “Would you rather I find out about your social security and bank details after your death, when rather than mourning for you I’m looking through paperwork?”

“You can ask me that anytime.” Brienne pointed out.

“Why are you so resistant? Do you think there’s something about your past I won’t like? That I’ll walk away?”

“No. I don’t think that. But why can’ I keep things to myself?”

Jaime tried another tactic. “So you won’t ever tell me your dirtiest fantasy?”'

Brienne, startled at his question, could only stare at him owlishly before she blushed. Muttering under her breath, she wiped her hands on her pants and strode away. Jaime was immediately right behind her. 

“I’ll tell you mine. My dirtiest fantasy involves a popsicle and your cunt. I fuck you with it, swirl the tip around your clit. You beg me to stop but you actually don’t want me to stop. And you can’t stop me because you’re bound.” Jaime said, enjoying her reddening face at his nonchalance. “What flavour would you like, wife?”

“Shut up.” 

“Oh, come on! I shared my dirtiest fantasy with you.”

“I didn’t ask!”

“You didn’t say no either.” He grabbed her the by arm and spun her around to face him. Laughing green eyes met stormy blue. “So. Wife. Dirtiest fantasy of yours.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Then how will it come true?”

“Precisely why it’s a fantasy, Jaime.”

“You know, you have a very willing husband who will never say no to anything you introduce in the bedroom. Might as well take advantage. I don’t judge. You know that.” He stepped closer, liking that she stood her ground. He traced her cheek with his finger. “Tell me.”

“Promise me first you’ll never act on it. I know you. You’ll make it happen. It can’t happen, Jaime. Ever.”

“This sounds very promising,” he teased her, crossing his arms.

“Gods. I can’t believe this is happening.”

“Okay. If you tell me this filthy fantasy of yours, I’ll give another.”

“How many fantasies do you have?” Brienne gasped.

“Since you’ve been mine? They can probably fill up the public library.”

Brienne’s blush was so rich she looked tasty. Raspberry Cream Brienne, Jaime thought, smiling at her as he remembered the old nickname he wanted to call her. It never materialized. 

“Um. . .”She looked at her boots. “It’s uh. . .it’s my lecture hall.”

Oh, gods, this was more than promising. Jaime could purr but controlled himself.

“Uh. . .you take me. On the desk.” Brienne looked at him then. “From behind.”

Holy Seven Hells, it didn’t take long for Jaime to imagine it. Brienne, still electrified from another riveting lecture, flushed pink, bent over her desk, creamy, freckled buttocks bare and below it, the folds of her cunt glistening. 

“Do people watch?” He growled, his arousal making him sound rough.

“No. No. Just. . .you and me. In the lecture hall.” Brienne’s voice fell to a whisper. “You spank me. On my ass.”

“With what? Ruler? My hand? Riding crop?”

Brienne bit her lip. “H-Hand..”

“Seven Hells.” He _could see_ the red imprint of his hand on her ass. _Could hear_ her moaning. He can see himself grinning as he playfully spanked his wife towards a breathless admission of where she wanted his cock.

Brienne, looking at her boots again, suddenly gasped loudly and looked at him. “Jaime! We’re only talking about fantasies! How are you hard?”

“Trust me, if any of your fantasies have either Addam or Bronn in a starring role, I won’t be hard.” Jaime said, crossing his arms and making no attempt to hide his arousal.

“I—I suppose I can. . .I mean, we didn’t fuck last night. You clearly wanted to.” Brienne said looking at him again.

Puzzled, he asked, “What are you talking about?”

Her answer was her hand lowering to his crotch. 

Jaime groaned. His forehead fell on her shoulder. “Shit. That feels good.”

“You were so understanding last night,” Brienne whispered, kissing him on the temple as she continued rubbing him through his pants. Jaime gripped her shoulders, digging his nails on skin, muscles. “You could have forced me, seduced me, but you didn’t. Let me do this for you.”  
Jaime, who struggled stringing things together in the presence of his wife, did not immediately realize what she was saying. By the time he did, Brienne had a hard, rough hand around his jaw, kissing him on the lips as her other hand continued to pleasure him. He frowned and set her away from him.

“Do you think,” he said slowly, “I’m angry because we didn’t fuck last night?”

Brienne cocked an eyebrow and he flushed. They each remembered too well what had happened during his birthday weekend at Casterly Rock. Still, he demanded, “Is this why you let me fuck you? Seven Hells, Brienne, when you don’t want to, you tell me. I’m not some brute who will force you. I thought we’ve talked about this.”

“We have. I know. But it still worries me.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this? And now because we didn’t fuck last night you think to make it up to me by sucking my cock?”

Brienne scowled. “I don’t see it as a duty.”

“You damn well shouldn’t. But I don’t want my wife blowing me because we didn’t fuck last night, because I was understanding, because I didn’t force her. When she sucks me it’s because she wants to, damn it, not because it’s some fucking consolation prize. ”

Brienne flinched at his words. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I did not mean it the way it came off. But I definitely don’t see. . .uh. . .pleasuring you in some other away as a consolation prize. I. . I like it, husband.”

His anger had caused his cock to soften some but at her last sentence, his ears perked up. “Oh?’ He drawled. “What do you like?”

Blushing, Brienne shook her head. “Jaime, don’t.”

He advanced toward her until they were almost nose-to-nose.“You need to spell out to your idiot husband what you like.”  
“Can’t I . . .Can’t I just show you?”She sounded both helpless and as if her lungs were too tight, allowing only the briefest shafts of oxygen.

“Unh-unh. You’re telling me. What do you like? Sucking my cock?” He thought to lead her to it.  
She nodded. She was getting redder by the second.

“What exactly do you like?” As he spoke, he drew her closer. He slipped his leg between her thighs and rubbed himself against her. His cock twitched eagerly.

“I—I like that. . .it’s beautiful. Like the rest of you.”

“Beautiful. Elaborate why so.”

He grinned at her flushed cheeks. “Really? I have to do this?”

“You hear me telling you all the time how much I love your cunt,” he reasoned. "It shares the top spot with your eyes, your smile, your laugh, your ugly scowl and your legs."

He put a hand on her cheek as he spoke. Brienne looked as if she'd taken a tumble at his words.“Uh . . .it’s smooth. But the veins under it are thick. I like that.”

His cock reared against her in response to her words. "Jaime," she whispered. 

“What else?” He pushed up her tank to circle her navel with his finger. 

“Your cock smells of soap and you. At any hour of the day.” The words were a whispered rush as Brienne leaned her forehead against his. Her face was warm. He licked her under the line of her jaw before sucking at a freckle.“You always smell good.”

Jaime took her hands and brought them to the waistband of his pants. She looked at him and he nodded. “Okay,” she murmured to herself and started undoing his pants. With another look at him, she grasped the opened waistband and pulled, moving down until she could kneel on the ground. He touched her cheek, rubbed a thumb around her lips while his other hand played with the strap of her tank. Understanding, she tugged it up and over her head. Suddenly, he bent at the waist, yanking her head up roughly to receive his kiss. He kissed her to drive away all her uncertainties and fears, so that she would know only of his love. His cock nudged at her chest. Then she tore her mouth away from him, looking at him with her big, beautiful blue eyes before they fell on his erection.

His cock gleamed with a fat dot of pre-cum at the tip. Brienne took a shy, careful swipe around it, looking up at him as she did. Jaime whispered her name as she continued tasting him with gentle, leisurely licks as she fondled his balls. He almost shot off his load when she shifted and began to rub his cock down the long column of her throat, around the tight nipples of her breasts. Then she was circling it around her swollen lips, the dry skin scraping him and drawing a sharp hiss from him.The veins in his cock bulged.

Though Brienne’s technique was hardly that of a courtesan’s, her effect on him was devastating. He groaned when she finally took him in her mouth, taking her time before he was completely in, bumping against the base of her throat. Her moan made him swell, making her open her mouth wider. Grasping the base of his length, her head started to bob.

Her mouth was warm and giving, a soft, wet glove that clung to him. He buried his fingers in her hair, clutching at her a little too tightly and loosening a little when she whimpered. Grunting an apology, he gentled his grip but continued fucking her mouth. Brienne suddenly pulled away, releasing him with a loud popping sound. Her lips were red and her mouth seemed to fill up her half her face. _Who wouldn't want to fuck a mouth like that? But only I get to do so,_ Jaime thought possessively. _I am hers and she is mine._

“I’m strong enough,” she told him, looking at him in the eye. He smiled at the words he told her often. A lot stronger than you think, wife, he thought, feeling the rush of passion and love for her.

Then without another word, she was opening her mouth wide again and taking all of him in. Her nails dug in his backside as he bumped the base of her throat. 

“Gods, Brienne,” he gasped, holding her. “My wife. _My wife._ ” He tapped her on the shoulder when he felt the first wave of his approaching release. As she had always done, she shook her head, her lips tightening around him. It was too much. _Too much._

 _“My love,”_ he whispered before seeing gold and white.


	33. Do You Really Want to Know?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime asks. Brienne answers.

It was a warm morning indeed but experience from the many camping trips Brienne took when she was younger reminded her that in the dense, thick, lush forests of the Riverlands, the temperature could drop as quickly as it shot up. And because a cool temperature wouldn’t dry clothes quickly or have them dry enough, Brienne proposed that she and Jaime strip as they embarked on the first lesson: catching fish. 

Jaime, grinning as he performed an elaborate striptease, winked at her. “Eager to have me so soon again, hmm, wife?”

Brienne rolled her eyes, wishing for the nth time she could control her blushes. “I’ve had enough for the day.”  
“Not for the night, though.”

“Jaime,” she enunciated every syllable of his name as she glared at him. “Let me remind you that this isn’t play time. You are going to learn how to catch fish and you are going to take it seriously, you got that?”

“Just trying to lighten mood,” Jaime said, pouting. Then he pointed at the shirt she was wearing. “Remove it. Now.”

Brienne would never confess, (she would die first!) that when Jaime adopted that rough, dark tone and commanded her, she got hot and wet. She was still thrumming from the release his fingers had given her after sucking him off. They lay flopped on their backs, panting hard afterward before Brienne slowly sat up and pulled on her tank top. Jaime smiled at her as she pulled up his pants and zipped him up then gave him a hand so they could stand together. Their kiss was long and still hungry—they always will be for each other, she thought when Jaime reluctantly pulled away and smiled at her. 

They continued putting away the rest of their meal, dumping them in the compost and making sure they did not leave any scattered food or rubbish behind. As they did this, Brienne mulled over what Jaime wanted to do. There was clearly no stopping her husband from finding out her secrets. 

Though Brienne knew it came from a good place where her welfare presided over everything else, she still worried about Jaime’s tendency to overreact. Her husband was not short-tempered nor mean; in fact, he was all easy smiles and good, although infuriating humor. But he became the very embodiment of his family’s old house sigil when he believed her safety compromised or when he thought a man was sniffing around too closely around his wife. The latter was a ridiculous notion but Jaime told her many times that if he was thinking it, so was another man.  
Jaime now watched her as she divested herself of her shirt. When she began to turn away from him, he snarled, throatily, to let him see her. Now Brienne’s entire face down to her chest was flushed a deep pink, slowly crossing to red. He shook his head when she crossed her arms over her breasts, this time begging her to let him see her,to let him watch. She had been naked before him, she had stripped before him, but not out in the wild like this. Gathering her courage, she dropped her arms and began to work on her pants. Jaime groaned something unintelligible as he attacked his own pants, throwing them off as if they burned. When she was done, Jaime was once again hard and his curled fists indicated he was doing his utmost to not rut fuck her on the dirt. He need not know she wouldn’t mind.

Cheeks still burning, Brienne led him to the river. It would be easier to teach Jaime to catch fish with a spear but with their luck, he might end up stabbing himself and she didn’t want to risk injuries with medical help far away. So she would teach him to catch fish with his bare hands.  
“Just a reminder. I do this well and you will answer my questions,” Jaime told her as he stepped into the water. Wearing only his golden skin, he looked like a god in the sun. His cock bobbed from its thick cluster of golden hairs as he walked. It was taking all of Brienne’s willpower to not throw her legs around him and beg him to fuck her. She could and would. 

“For every finished task done well, I will answer a question,” Brienne said firmly, ignoring the little voice inside her head warning her to tread carefully.

“No-holds-barred?”

“No-holds-barred.”

“That’s my wife,” Jaime said proudly, his emeralds sparkling.

“What you’ll be learning, hopefully, is noodling,” Brienne said as she waded further into the water. She ignored Jaime’s assessing eyes on her wet legs, her breasts swinging slightly with every step. Her nipples tightened under his scrutiny and he smirked. “That’s what you call catching fish with your bare hands. This spot is good enough,” she said briskly, cursing the blush spreading across her cheeks.

“Noodle away, wife. Tell me what to do.” Jaime said.

Brienne got him into position, reminding him his greatest challenge was not catching fish but getting surprised and being squeamish about holding on to them. She helped him position his legs and shaped his hands. “Firm your stance,” she told him when he wobbled a bit.

“You make it look so easy,” Jaime complained.

“It is easy. But you will have to give yourself time. I didn’t learn it right away, if that helps.” Brienne assured him. Then she mirrored his stance. Her eyes, long used to detecting the swift movements of fish in the water, tracked one and quickly brought her hands around it. Grunting, she caught it as it curved upward from the water. She held up the gasping, writhing creature to Jaime. “See? Now it’s your turn.” Then she threw the fish back into the water. 

Patience was one of the few things Jaime Lannister did not have. Pride, he had too much off, as well as a tendency to get easily frustrated. Brienne had seen it enough when he was wracking his brains for another advertising campaign and bemoaning why he was in a very demanding job. And she would always tell him to give things time, that things would coalesce when they should. This was another of those times. It had been an hour since she began her instruction, they were pruning and Jaime had yet to catch a single fish. Brienne had climbed up on a rock and put her clothes back on. She was cold and she called on her husband to the same. It was like talking to a wall as he remained firmly planted in the water.  
Is it really that important to him to know my secrets? Brienne wondered, shielding her eyes with her hand as she watched at Jaime look intensely in the water. Twin lines formed between his elegant brows as he concentrated on the task. It was the same look he wore when determined to nail down the right copy for a new advertising campaign that had nagged and haunted him night after night. Brienne put her chin on her knees, feeling the sun beginning to bite at her shoulders because it was almost noon and the heat was greater, a sizzle in the air. There was no sunblock in their packs and no amount of fucking would ease a frustrated, sunburned Jaime, she thought, blushing as her eyes fell on his cock. Even at rest it was thick and hung heavily down his muscular thighs. She licked her lips; her husband’s taste lingered in the back of her throat.

Suddenly, Jaime lunged forward, pushing his hands in the water. In the next instant, he held up a fat, silvery fish shaking wildly in his grip. His grin was big and warm and Brienne couldn’t help shrieking, “Jaime! Gods, you did it!”

Forgetting she was wearing pants, she waded toward him to give him a kiss. Jaime handed her the fish but beckoned her to stay back. “Let’s make sure that wasn’ a fluke,” he said, focusing on the water again.

“What? Of course it wasn’t a fluke!” Brienne exclaimed as she turned to take the fish from him. She was still protesting when Jaime resumed focusing on the water. She went back to her perch on the rock, banging the flopping fish on it so it would still. Satisfied, she sank back on her spot and watched Jaime prove it was skill and not beginner’s luck. Such a stubborn man, she thought fondly, marvelling at his perfect, sleek form.  
Ten minutes and two fish later, it was clear Jaime knew what he was doing. His smug grin melted away at her kiss and then they were going back to the camp. Brienne looked at Jaime as they put the fish down. “You can ask me now,” she offered.

“Yes,” he said, savouring the word. “But it’s almost lunch. Why don’t you teach me how to clean the fish and then I’ll ask you my questions as we eat.”

“Fair enough,” Brienne was actually pleased he wanted to continue. So she got them knives and began giving instructions. 

She had to bite back a laugh as Jaime’s entire face looked a little green when she started scooping out the guts and other entrails. It took him a few tries before mastering removing only the scales and not the meat but this stage of the learning was clearly challenging him. Her husband was a pampered rich boy, she thought, bringing her teeth harder down her lower lip as she tore out the entrails of one fish with quick, efficient movements. Jaime, holding his breath, struggled to do the same.

Her voice was gentle as she asked, “Would you like me to finish it for you?”

He shook his head firmly. “I told you. I’ll learn this. Hand over that other fish, will you?”

No stopping him. Brienne pushed the last fish toward him. Jaime looked at her inquiringly, knife angled over it. She nodded. He started scraping off the scales with the blade.

“I’ll start cooking the others while you finish that,” Brienne said, taking the other two. 

Brienne had gathered some wood earlier. She fired them up, cupping a hand protectively around the pile as a sudden wind picked up. When the fire began to rise and appeared to be steady, she stuck the fish in their spits. She was putting them over the fire when Jaime walked up to her holding the last fish. His face didn’t look so green anymore. She smiled at him and held out a hand. “Let me have that. Could you prepare the plates?”  
“No problem,” he said, giving her a quick smile. 

It would take the fish five minutes to cook on each side. Jaime and Brienne washed their hands with soap in the river, scrubbing at their skin until pink and between their nails. She laughed this time when he complained about the lingering, metallic fishy smell. At the moment, he looked so disgruntled and impatient that Brienne felt her heart flip and a thrill go through her. His expression reminded her of their Drew and Ty when they didn’t get what they wanted right away, be it ice cream or a kiss. 

Thinking about their sons, she asked, “How do you think our boys are doing?”

“Well, knowing my father he’s probably regretting making the offer,” Jaime said, chuckling as he shook his hands dry. His dimples were deep lines framing his lips. “I have a hunch that your dad is the fun grandpa.”

“I can imagine it, strangely,” Brienne admitted, rising to her feet. “Making up for all the time he lost with me.”

“Are you jealous?”

Peeking at him under her lashes, she said, “Is that your first question, husband?”

“Nah. We’re just talking. My questions will keep you on the edge of your seat,” Jaime promised with annoying confidence. Brienne flicked her still-wet fingers at him and splashed water to her pants legs. “Jaime!” She yelled, glaring at her drenched legs then at him. “You got me wet!”

“Well, I should get you wet,” Jaime responded, quirking a suggestive grin. Brienne rolled her eyes. Still smiling, he got to his feet and put his arms around her waist, jerking her hard to his chest. She slapped him on the shoulder, her eyes glinting with disapproval.

“Let’s hope our sons don’t turn out to be the impossible, infuriating man-child that their father is,” she grumbled as he tightened his arms around her waist. She hated that though annoyed with him, she could feel the familiar brand of want and desire swelling between her legs. As if reading her mind, Jaime murmured in her ear, “I should have made it that we fuck for every successful lesson. Hells, wife, I want you now.”

“Questions. We have a deal. Are you an oathbreaker, husband?”

“When I’m with somebody as oath-bound as you are, I can’t be even if I try,” he teased her, planting a light kiss on the tip of her nose. 

“You’re a lot better than you think, Jaime,” Brienne told him seriously, looking into his eyes. She cupped his face in both hands then began to move away. When Jaime held her, she said, “You want charred fish for lunch, husband?”

“Fine,” he said, letting out a long-suffering sigh as he released her. She giggled and resumed cooking.

They ate their lunch with hands and smiling at each other. Jaime found ever excuse to touch her, saying that a leaf was stuck in her hair, that her left shoulder looked a little red. Brienne had to prompt him again for his questions but Jaime told her he’d rather save them for later.  
After cleaning up the area and washing their hands again, Jaime leaned against the trunk of the tree, his long legs spread out before him. His hair was mussed and looked even more golden in the sun. His t-shirt was streaked with dirt and his jeans a little filthy but for Brienne, there would never be a better-looking man. He drew her between his thighs and had her lean her head on his shoulder, surrender her weight on his chest. She sighed as his arms wrapped around her waist. He folded his legs and this was where she rested her elbows. Together, they stared at the scenery before them: the cloudless blue sky blinding with its brightness, the afternoon sun high and golden, the rushing current of the river, the thick cluster of trees and the forest on the other side. Then Jaime started kneading Brienne's back. A contented sigh escaped her. 

“Maybe we can go exploring that area this afternoon,” Brienne suggested, pointing. “We don’t have much time since we’re leaving the day after tomorrow.”

“Oh, we have a lot of time, wife,” Jaime said, brushing his lips against her hair, her nape. “It’s just that we would much rather explore each other than actual terrain.”

“Cock-brain,” she teased him as his arms went around her waist..

“Only for you,” he retorted. “And you’re the one who likes fucking in public.”

“I thought you liked that.”

“Brienne, know that when you offer me your cunt I will never say no. I’d be the biggest idiot. It’s the sweetest, wettest—“

“Shut up.”

“You have a richer flavour when knocked up. I couldn’t get enough.”

Brienne remembered. Jaime was very careful not to breathe too hard when he knelt between her legs and worshipped her with his tongue when she was pregnant. If she had made a tally, it was with great certainty he had fucked her more with his tongue than with his cock during that time. He only stopped going down on her when she got huge and couldn't lie on her back.   
“Is that why you want me to get pregnant?’ She thought to tease him about the tricky subject.

“You found me out,” he said in a resigned tone. She laughed and sat up, turning to face him.

“What else do you want to find out about me, husband?” She asked.

“Everything you want me to know,” Jaime said solemnly, tucking a stray lock of her hair behind once ear. “Everything you trust me with. I wish to earn your trust, wife.”

Brienne could understand that. But, “I wish you’d trust me too, Jaime. You don’t need to know everything about me, nor I with you.”

“But I need to, Brienne.”

She bit her lip. “So, what do you want to know?”

“Off the top of my head, hmm.” Jaime mused and she nodded. He leaned back against the tree. His eyes shone with mischief, telling her he was up to no good.

“When did you realize that you liked having your nipples pinched while fucking?”

Seven Hells, Brienne swore in her head. Jaime, oblivious to her tension, began to slide the strap of her tank down her shoulder. She shook her head and pulled it back. He really had to begin with that question, didn't he? 

“That’s very personal, Jaime. And why do you want to know?”

“Wife, sometimes it worries me that you get. . .uh, you get vocal about it. And you often tell me to do it harder. I don’t mind if that's what you like. I like it. But I worry I'll hurt you. Which among your exes taught you that?”  
“Is that your next question?”

“It’s under my first question. A follow-up. So not really the next question.” Jaime’s finger traced down her shoulder. “So. Who?”

“Alright, before I answer this, you should know that I only had one night with the guy and that was it. I never thought to take it further from that. I was never interested. Never. And I discovered it by accident—“

“Were you touching yourself?” Jaime’s eyes darkened with lust.

“What? No. It was—“ Oh, bloody Seven Hells,” Brienne took a deep breath and said, “You know him. You’ve met him. And you invited him to our wedding despite my protests. It’s Gendry. Gendry Waters.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun-dun-dun. How is Jaime going to take this?  
> All characters by George RR Martin. I own nothing.


	34. You Ask, I'll Answer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime digs deep. Brienne warns him but he persists.

“Gendry Waters,” Jaime echoed. His voice sounded hollow to his ears.

“Yes.” Brienne confirmed.

“Black hair. Tall guy. Psych professor in Braavos?” 

“That’s the one.”

Suddenly, Jaime had a clear picture of the man. Thick, wavy black hair. Dark blue eyes. Angular cheekbones. Wide jaw. Broad shoulders. As tall as Brienne. The picture was not very reassuring, in light of his wife’s scowling revelation. Because Gendry Waters was not a troll.

Brienne turned away from him and started to stand up. He quickly put his hands on her shoulders. “Where are you going?”

“I told you this isn’t a good idea, Jaime. Gods, did you see yourself? You went pale. I thought you were going to faint. And your eyes crossed for a bit.” She tried shaking him off but he tightened his grip on her shoulders until she relaxed. He ignored her stiff spine as he hauled her to his chest.  
“You’re going to have to give me context here, wife.”

Brienne turned to face him. She looked aghast. “Jaime! Come on.”

“What? I can take it.”

“Well what about me? I don’t want to revisit that particular time of my life, Jaime. I wasn’t in a good place.”

“You can’t let ghosts hang over you, Brienne.”

“I am not.”

“Yes you are.” Jaime insisted, shifting when she turned away. Brienne sat with her shoulders hunched, her arms hugging her knees. It was supposed to look like a vulnerable position but with her frown and the tension returning to the shoulders he had just massaged, she was clearly on the defensive.

“So it was a terrible time. We all go through terrible times, wife. I thought,” he said, his voice gentle, “I thought that if you could visit yourself back in the past you’ll tell her things are alright. How can this dark period of yours make you forget where you are right now?”

“You really want to know?” Brienne demanded, glaring at him.

“That’s why we’re doing this. Trust.”

“You really want to know?” She repeated the question.

Jaime frowned at her. “Your husband is not known to back down nor walk away from anything, wife. If you doubt this, you don’t know me at all.”

Brienne’s cheeks turned scarlet. “I wasn’t. But. . .I know how you react to things you don’t like, Jaime. You get all huffy and snarling.”

“But it doesn’t scare you,” he told her.

“It worries me.”

“How do you want me to react towards bad things that happen to you, wife? Am I supposed to clap my hands, cheer, is that it?”

Air huffed out heavily from her flared nostrils. “Fine. I’ll give you context. But you will listen and you’re going to remain calm. And then we won’t speak of it anymore. Then I get to ask my question. You said I could.”

“And I’m not taking it back. Alright. Tell me.”

So she did. Brienne told him about how she had been insecure with her body, leading to her break-up with Hyle Hunt, her first boyfriend. He wanted to take their relationship further and she was terrified what he would see. She took it hard and spent weeks crying into her pillow. Gendry was the TA of one of her professors and he seemed a nice guy. It turned out he really was. He asked her out. She slept with him and in doing so unintentionally hurt Gendry. “He wanted to get to know me. I wanted to forget,” she told Jaime. She didn’t see him again until she brought Jaime to Tarth for the first time. “Remember, the night I landed in jail? We ran into each other at a bar. That’s the only time I was able to clarify things. I couldn’t face him. . .after what happened. I was still hurting but mostly embarrassed and mortified.”

Jaime knew Brienne wasn’t a virgin when they started dating. Yet he couldn’t help the small flare of jealousy welling up in his chest as she admitted that Gendry had been her first. He held her hand as she narrated how horrible it was. She wasn’t ready in any way, she only knew she wanted to forget a the pain of a shattered heart. Pinching her nipples got her through the first time but just barely. It was the only sliver of pleasure she took from the experience. And when she started doing it when she and Hyle Hunt hooked up again years later, he was weirded out that she got off on pain. In truth, she didn’t. It was not everyone’s taste but doing it catapulted her to pleasure. She was glad Hyle was not her first.

Brienne did like a certain roughness when fucking but so did Jaime. He enjoyed that every inch of her body was a challenge to conquer and half the time she ended up owning him. He got harder when he put all his strength into pinning her down when sucking on her clit, he liked how she could easily roll and have him under her. He had never been as uninhibited as with Brienne, whose strength gave him freedom in the bedroom.

He was jealous he wasn’t her first and there was nothing he could do. But he was sorry that her first time wasn’t good. He still remembered the first time he had sex. It had been very awkward but his body hummed with pleasure afterward. There was no undoing the past but, he thought, he would make sure that sex with Brienne was better than good. He played with a short lock of her straw-blond hair, his eyes tender as they regarded her. 

“I didn’t think sex could ever be pleasurable until you, Jaime,” Brienne said, dropping her eyes to her lap as she blushed. “I didn’t imagine I would ever be wanted or looked at the way you do. I still have trouble believing it and I always will, I guess. So if I’m a little overwhelmed while. . .we’re doing it, it’s because of that. Because it’s really good with you, Jaime. That you like what I like. . .I mean, I didn’t think that was possible.”

Jaime couldn’t help but be touched by her earnest admission. This seemed the perfect time to tell her that he didn’t think much of sex until she came along. “It felt like a chore. It was just a way towards relief,” he said. Out of the many women it was only Brienne who had looked at him and really saw him. She never cared he was a Lannister. All that concerned her was he was a good man, a better man. 

Brienne’s smile was soft. Jaime took her hand and pressed kisses on it. 

“Know that I won’t take for granted how much you enjoy having my cock in you,” he said, grinning to lighten the serious mood surrounding them. “You have my word that our fucking gets better every time.”

“You’re an arrogant asshole, Jaime,” Brienne said, laughing. He smirked at the familiar fluttering below his stomach as his name left her lips. 

“But I do love you. Very much.” She added as she settled back in his arms. Jaime kissed her on the temple and rested his chin on her shoulder. 

Content to just hold each other, they watched the gentle rush of the river, listened to the wind ruffling the leaves of the trees. Jaime would kiss Brienne every now and then. He couldn’t help it. As solid and as warm she felt, kissing her convinced him she was real and not a dream. He took the faint trace of soap emanating from her skin deep into his lungs, pleased that even without her signature vanilla scent, there remained her unique, head-spinning, knee-weakening musk. 

“Wife.” He whispered after a long while. He rubbed his lips up and down the long line of her neck. “You have a question for me?” 

“It’s hard to think when you do that,” Brienne murmured sleepily. Jaime grinned against her nape and slipped his hand under her shirt. He pinched her nipples lightly, very gently yet she sank heavily against him. He cupped her breasts. 

“I don’t think _at all_ when you do that.” Brienne’s head lolled the side. “You’re not playing fair.”

“It’s impossible to not touch you, wife.” But Jaime withdrew his hands and returned them to her waist. He continued kissing her. “So, what now? Can you think?” He teased.

Brienne laughed. “So impatient. Alright. It’s not as naughty as yours.” 

“And your question is. . .”

“Why is it you know only one kind of kissing?”

Jaime frowned. He put a finger under her chin and prompted her to look at him. “What are you talking about?”

“Look at you!” Brienne hooted with laughter, her face flaring a wonderful, rich red. “So disgruntled. So defensive. I haven’t even asked yet.”

“If you’re going to complain about my technique you should have mentioned it a long time ago. Before we fucked.”

“I’m not complaining about it. But I do wonder if devour is the only speed you know.” Hard waves of laughter shook her. “Oh, please, Jaime! You can’t not know. Like when we got married and you kissed me, you put your tongue in my mouth in front of your father. _And my father!_ I’m not complaining but I wonder if the reason only a few couples hang out with us is because. . .well. Of how you kiss. We kiss. I’m not even going to mention how inappropriately handsy you are.”

Jaime puffed out his chest. “Well. I’m not changing that. But really? You think I devour you?”

“I’m not complaining, I said. I was wondering if whoever your first kiss was told you it was the way to do it.”

“Well. My first kiss was a girl named Ally or Annie. I don’t remember. Hooked up with her up in a party with one of Oberyn’s many girlfriends back in boarding school. She had braces, like the kind you wore with a headset so I can say, objectively, my first kiss was the worst I’ve had. Now for the devouring part—“ Jaime raised an eyebrow challengingly. “If you would demonstrate?”

“You really are something else, Jaime Lannister.” Brienne said with mock exasperation. Then, with a glint in her eyes, she suddenly grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, tipped his head up toward her lips and kissed him. Jaime could not stop the growl of want from his throat as Brienne sucked hard on his lower lip, raked her tongue across the reddening, slick tissue, then angled his head up again before pushing her tongue inside. The force of her kiss sent them toppling to the ground, Jaime grunting from the pain flaring from between his shoulder blades as he fell. Brienne murmured an apology in between heated kisses. He speared his fingers through her hair, gripping her skull. She touched his chest, tantalized him when her hand lowered to his navel. Jaime moaned and thrust, anticipating her familiar, gentle hold falling on his cock when Brienne snatched her head away from him.

Panting, stunning with her flushed cheeks and her messy hair, the sun spangles around her, she said, “Like that.”

“Well,” Jaime pretended to ponder carefully as he licked his lips still tingling. “I don’t mind being knocked off my feet with the way you kissed me. Do you?”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” Brienne said, shaking her head. “So if it’s not Ally or Annie where. . .how?”

She tried to roll away but he held her fast. She was heavy but he liked being crushed like this. He smiled up at her.

“I told you. Sex was a chore for me until you. Kissing was alright. I did it because it was part of the deal leading to satisfactory sex. But you—“he cupped her cheek, traced her full, thick lips with his thumb—“I really don’t know. Wife, I don’t think there are no words for how much I want to eat you up sometimes. And there are times when for every word out of your lips I want to kiss—hey, why are you laughing?” He demanded, a little hurt by her reaction.

“I’m sorry,Jaime,” Brienne said, her shoulders shaking from the laughter she was barely restraining. “But for such a mighty Lion of Lannister you are extremely cheesy.”

“I am _not._ ”

“Yes you are. I’d bet Tyrion is too. And gods, Cersei. You do know that she and Robert call each other `My heart.’”

“Well, you’re cheesy too. You do call me `husband.’ Who the hell does that?”

“You call me `wife.’”

“But of course.” Jaime ran his finger down the long, firm line of her arm. “You’re mine.”

“As are you.” 

“Always, wife.”

“See? It should be your middle name.”

"Wife?"

"Shut up."

Jaime drew her down for another deep kiss. This time it was gentle, a tasting kind of kiss that was tentative yet also sure. Brienne hummed against him, pulling at his t-shirt so she could brush her palms on the golden mat of hair on his chest. Then he rolled so she was under him, making sure their lips did not break contact as he did. 

Licking her collarbones, he asked, “My turn to ask, wife.”

He lowered his head, his teeth pulling at the strap of her tank until a firm, freckled breast was bare. He circled the nipple with his tongue until it gleamed wet and tightened. 

“Stop. You’re not playing fair,” Brienne moaned, arching against him. When Jaime just grinned and continued to lick her other nipple, she had to grab him by the ears to get him off it. Though her eyes were dark, almost black with desire, she was stern. “Damn it, you’re not going to seduce me out of my secrets, Jaime.”

“The thought did cross my mind,” Jaime admitted, shaking her hands away. “But no, I wasn’t.”

“Good.”

Jaime flopped down next to her. His grin was playful. “Nice to know that I can still seduce you. Once children come, there really isn’t much of a point to it. But, you, wife. Ah. You’re different. Thank the gods. And I enjoy seducing you.”

“You also enjoy putting me on edge. Next question?” Brienne prompted impatiently, tucking her between his chest and arm. 

“Were you in love with your exes?”

Jaime thought it pointless to ask. Brienne was with him now. Forever. Curiosity was hard to resist and he needed to know to whom she had given her kind heart before trusting him with it.

“First,” Brienne answered after a momentary silence, “it wasn’t exes. One. Hyle Hunt. Gendry and I were never a couple.”

“Noted.”

“I think I was in love with Hyle. Yes. I was, when we first got together. But not enough to trust himto. . .to have sex. The Hyle I knew back then was a lot different from the Hyle I was with years later. College Hyle was sweet and maybe he loved me. I’ll never know and I don’t care to know. He was my first kiss, the first guy to hold my hand, the first to look at me and see something. . .desirable. But he had expectations. Things I wasn’t ready for. I mean, I went from being ridiculed just for breathing to suddenly making out on very uncomfortable dorm beds with a guy. When he would touch me. . .intimately, I’d freeze.”

“This has nothing to do with Wagstaff?” Jaime wanted to know.

“I don’t believe so. It was satisfying punching him in the face and when he got kicked out of school so I didn’t think about him again—I even forgot about him—until we went to Tarth. I’ve always been suspicious—even of you, Jaime, at first.”

“Why?”

Brienne snorted. “You do know what you look like? What I look like?”

“You have the most astonishing blue eyes I’ve ever seen, the softest lips I struggle to not kiss all the time, you have insanely long legs and you’re strong. You’re the embodiment of it. I do know what I look like, wife, and what you look like. The problem is do you have any idea what I see when I look at you? Because you should know. I like every damn inch, every freckle you’ve got. I like that your hair is often messy no matter how many products you use because you look like you just came from fucking my brains out.”

Only Jaime could dish out a very inappropriate compliment and make her blush. “Anyway,” Brienne continued, “when Hyle broke up with me it just about destroyed me. It was routine that kept me together. School. Volleyball practice. Games. I didn’t know how fragile it was until that night with Gendry. I mean, I switched professor so I won’t see him. Buried myself in school. Practices. Then I got injured and kissed volleyball goodbye. It was hard too but not as bad as the break-up.”

“But surely there were others before this blessed reunion?” Jaime asked blandly.

Brienne blushed. “I had an affair with my therapist. Not a relationship. It was just sex. More like a scratch-an-itch-kind of sex than the I-want-you-now sort.”

Jaime’s eyes were huge. _“What?”_

“He was handsome and there for me. I was vulnerable and needed comfort. It ended on my last day in therapy. A long drought followed. Then. . .there was Hyle. And we resumed our relationship. It wasn’t. . .it wasn’t a good idea from the start.”

Jaime knew Renly had punched Hyle at some point. He approved.

“And then nothing again until I came along?”

“That’s what I thought until recently. . .” Brienne looked worried. She sat up and looked at him. “Jaime. This thing we’re doing. Are you ready to know things about people? Like, are you absolutely sure?” 

“Recently?” Jaime echoed.

“Don’t get mad, okay?”

“What’s there to be mad about?”

“Because I know how you get. You’re going to have to fight to stay calm.”

“Do not keep me in suspense any longer, wife.” Jaime was impatient now.

Brienne looked at him in the eye. “Jon told me he was in love with me.” 

“What Jon? Who?”

“Gods, Jaime. Jon Snow. You know him. One of my best friends?”

_Jon Snow is in love with my wife?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Calm down, Jaime. Let Brienne finish.
> 
> Or will he?


	35. Forbidden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyrion gives Jon and Sansa some advice.

Tyrion shook his head. “This is a very ill-advised endeavour. At the very least.”

“But we met before I knew he was a professor at Winterfell,” Sansa argued. “And I’m not his student. I’m a student but I’m not under him. I mean—shut up, Jon!” She wailed as Jon Snow, who had kept a stoic face from the beginning of the Wype session suddenly started chuckling. She glared at him before turning back to Tyrion. 

“How are you even managing to keep your relationship a secret?” Tyrion pointed out. 

“Er. . .” Sansa looked at Jon.

“She lives with me,” Jon said proudly, putting an arm around Sansa’s slim shoulders. His smile was huge while she frowned. 

Jon Snow’s dark, bearded, rugged features were a direct contrast to Sansa’s creamy, delicate looks. His hair was a black, wild ruffle of unkempt-looking curls and his smile crooked. His teeth were stained, either from smoking or from too much coffee and one of them was chipped. Sansa’s hair was a sleek auburn and brushed neatly away from her narrow shoulders. Her naturally-pink lips were pursed together in an intriguing pout.  
“Seven bloody hells,” Tyrion swore. “I don’t care that you’re a tenured professor, Snow. But you are well aware that relations between a student and a teacher are forbidden and can be grounds for legal action against both of you—well, you especially. You have to live together, don’t you?”

It was the day after the wolf had been let out of the bag (“A most impressive wolf, if I may say. Hear me roar.” Cersei remarked when Sansa’s screen went dark. Robert glared his wife and promptly signed them off the session.). Tyrion had taken it upon himself to talk to Sansa and Jon, as he not only saw himself as a friend to both but also a school administrator.

“She’s not being forced or coerced in any way, come on,” Jon pointed out. “And she’s an adult, with her own mind. And again, she’s not my student. She is a student and I’m a professor. I don’t see anything ethical being compromised here. What do we have to worry about?”

“If I have to spell it out you really know nothing.” Tyrion said impatiently. “What do you think will happen to your career if word gets out you’re living with a student? Do you really not have any idea about the sexual harassment laws just salivating in anticipation of biting you in the ass?”

“You exaggerate,” Jon said. 

“I’m a graduate student. I’m twenty-seven years old!” Sansa exclaimed. 

“But do your friends know about Jon?”

“What friends? School is so demanding I hardly have time for a social life. If I’m not in class or in the library or in the field, I’m at home. And by the way, this was my old house. I grew up here.” Sansa shot Jon a smile. “It’s like we’re meant to be.”

Jon smiled back. “We are, my little dove.”

“Get your heads out of the romantic bubble and listen to reason.” Tyrion told them. “Sansa, you’re an adult, you’re not being coerced but you are still a student at Winterfell. Living with Jon is putting you both at risk. There is no way that the school will believe that you’re with him willingly. In a situation like this, it’s the welfate of the student that’s prioritized, not the professor, tenured or no.”

“What if we get an affidavit, have it signed and witnessed and everything? You know, Sansa swears she’s not being forced or coerced to engage in any activity or something like that with me. This is ridiculous.” Jon complained.

“What’s ridiculous is you’re living with a student who’s way younger than you.”

“I’m thirty-three. That’s just six years. If there’s anyone with a huge age gap between them---“

“Careful now,” Tyrion said in a slow, enunciated way very similar to Tywin Lannister. Tyrion was forty-six while Margaery was thirty-one years old. “And Margaery was never my student.”

“Whatever.”

“I’m game with the affidavit,” Sansa said, nodding at Tyrion then at Jon. “I think we should do it.” She beamed at Tyrion. “We can have my dad witness it. Dad likes Jon.”

“Your father as in Ned Stark, who’s still headmaster at Vale Prep? How can he approve of your relationship?” Tyrion said in disbelief.

“Again, I’m a _graduate_ student and an adult.”

“Children,” Tyrion said with a sigh as he rubbed the spot between his eyes. “You are courting one fucking clusterfuck of a disaster.”

“Are you planning on telling Dr. Umber?” Jon asked, referring to the president of Winterfell University. “I know you’re good friends.”

“I’m not good friends with the man but we know each other, yes.”

Sansa looked worried. “Tyrion, don’t.”

“Of course I fucking won’t,” Tyrion growled. “But by not telling him I’m an accomplice to what, on the outside, looks like a very inappropriate relationship with a professor and a student. Despite that, I’m talking to you, imploring you to see reason.”

“We’re not breaking up!” Sansa cried out, making Jon jump.

Jon’s blue eyes met Tyrion’s. “No. That’s not what he wants us to do.”

Sansa glared at him then at Tyrion, her auburn mane swinging. “I am not moving out of the house. Don’t you think we’re more likely to get caught sneaking around in two different locations rather than staying together? Because that’s what will happen. And there is no way, no way that I am moving any time soon because end-of-term exams are just around the corner. Above all, I stand with my man.”

Jon was quiet for a second then he said gravely. “Sansa—“

“Oh my gods! You agree with Tyrion!”

“Only until I check out what we might be in for and try to do some preventive action—“

“I can’t believe you! Here I am declaring I will stand with you—“

“We’re not going to break up—“

“No! But you’re choosing your career over us! Over me!”

“What? Sansa, that’s not it at all—“

“No? Because what I’m hearing is making myself scarce—“

“Just until I know for sure what we can prepare for—“

“Why do you have to be the only one to make sure? Why not me as well? _Why can't we do it together?”_

“Sansa, this is—“

“This is you once again shutting me out, Jon. We’re living together, we are together but I still can’t reach you and you’re doing it deliberately. I’m in this relationship too. And if it has the most unpleasant consequences then we’re taking it together.” Sansa said firmly.

Tyrion cleared his throat. Both of them gave him startled looks from the screen. “Perhaps we should talk some other time. But do what you can to. . .lessen the impact of your relationship if and when you’re found out.”

Jon and Sansa were still looking at him when he logged out.


	36. That's Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another Jaime and Brienne fight.  
> Second chapter update for today! Yay!

Seven Hells, she had warned him, tried to stop him but once again she let him sway her with his easy, savvy reassurance, Brienne thought as she stomped through the forest after Jaime. Darkness was following and it was going to be a moonless night, a starless sky. Despite this, there was no mistaking the tense set of his broad shoulders, at how quiet he was—so quiet that he had no spoken to her for several hours since she made that colossal mistake of thinking he could handle it.

She tried telling him it was in the past. Jon’s feelings, by the time she knew of them, were already gone. She didn’t know he was in love with her! But Jaime, a true masochist, pressed for more details. He ignored all her explanations that Jon had no more feelings for her, that she never had any feelings for him. What Jaime tacked on was Jon made the confession back in Casterly Rock, during that awful birthday weekend. His silence told Brienne he didn’t believe her one bit that she saw her friend, her best friend, as nothing more. 

Jaime was now more sure as he cut through the forest, pushing away leaves and branches that snagged and scratched him as if they were pesky mosquitoes. Brienne cursed his long strides, his steady feet. Since she was concentrating on him and wondering what else she has to apologize for, she didn’t see the fat tree root protruding from the ground. It caught her boot and sent Brienne flying. She crashed hard on the ground, sending up a fat cloud of dust.

She was still groaning when she heard Jaime running toward her then his hands turning her over on her back. “Brienne.” She bristled at his swift, tight tone. “Are you alright?”

He had withdrawn his hands and was kneeling over her. Now she knew he really was upset. She couldn’t imagine a moment where Jaime had willingly not touched her.

“I tripped, that’s all.” She said, looking away. She still lay on the ground. But Brienne was not one to linger or milk anything despite needing to get some advantage. She hauled herself up. As she put her weight on her left ankle, a sharp pain sprang up and she began to topple to the ground. This time, Jaime had no choice but to catch her.

“What hurts?” He demanded.

“My-my ankle.” Brienne gasped, surprised. Her ankle had become a throbbing mass of pain. “I-I think—I must have twisted it. That’s all.”

“That’s all?” Jaime growled at her. And without another word, he steered her toward some trees. He had to press hard on her shoulders so she’ll understand that he needed her to sit down. Brienne dropped heavily. Jaime knelt by her feet then looked at her. “Which one?”

He sounded so cold. The way he was talking to her hurt a lot more than her ankle.

“L-Left.”

But Jaime, despite his brusque manner, was gentle in removing her boot. A tingle rose up from her ankle to her thigh when his hand wrapped around it, carefully pulling off the sock. “It’s too dark to see,” he said, still looking at it in spite of what he just said. His fingertips started probing and Brienne let out a sharp hiss when he pressed a tender spot. “But I don’t think you should be walking right now. You might have sprained it.”

“But we have one more session with Melisandre,” Brienne protested.

“Seven Hells.” Jaime muttered. “You’re hurt and that’s what you’re thinking?”

“She can get you to listen to me,” Brienne pointed out.

“I don’t need anyone to convince me to listen to you.”

“Really? Because you’ve been ignoring me since I told you about Jon. This is the reason it’s not a good idea to know everything.” Brienne said, leaning against the tree. _Fuck, her ankle did hurt._

“You were never going to tell me, were you?” Jaime shot back.

“What’s the point? He loved me. Once. I never felt that way. Why does it bother you so?”

“Because he told you he had feelings for you on the weekend that I was wishing every pain upon me because you were so angry at me. Because I can see what could have happened!” Jaime shot to his feet and turned away. 

Brienne narrowed her eyes at him. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Must I spell it out to you? I kept thinking what if you wanted revenge? What if you cheated—“

As soon as the word left his lips, Brienne shouted angrily, “Don’t you dare!” 

“You tell me to trust you. But you don’t trust me!” She continued as Jaime turned around to look at her. 

“Can you blame me? With what happened?”

“We got in a huge row but not once, you fucking idiot, not once did I think to cheat on you or deliberately hurt you.” Brienne was so hurt by the implication tears burst from her eyes. Gods, she hated tears. Hated even more how crying scrunched up her face into an even more unfortunate mask. Angrily, she flung dirt at him. Jaime flinched, turning away.“When will you get it through that thick skull of yours that I never had any feelings for Jon?”

“You have more in common with him. You were friends first.” He said, brushing at his sleeve.

“So? Again, I never once entertained the idea of taking things further with him. And Jaime, he no longer feels this way. I told you. I told you and told you but you wouldn’t listen.”

“Put yourself in my shoes, wife. This is a man who’s still very much in your life. He may not be physically around but you chat with him once a week, you email regularly. What am I supposed to think? How do I know that if things get as bad as the last time, or worse, you won’t turn to him?”

“Trust!” Brienne yelled again. “What about me, Jaime? What about all those beautiful women who always look at you when we’re out and look at me with such disdain it’s like they want to physically remove me from this earth.”

“Now you’re being ridiculous. They don’t interest me.”

“Yet.”

“What the hell do you mean?” Jaime sounded completely baffled.

“I’m not beautiful. I’m ugly. I’m awkward. I’m bigger than you. You tell me you love me. But how do I know that you won’t be going after some pretty little thing at some point?” Brienne’s lower lip trembled. “How do I know you won’t leave me for something like that?”

“Seven bloody hells.” Jaime cursed. “I thought you trusted me. I thought you won’t cut yourself down like that anymore. You promised.”

“I thought you trusted me too.”

Brienne started to get up. Jaime was immediately at her side, pushing her back down. She slapped his hands away. “Don’t touch me.”  
“Don’t be fucking stupid. You want to make your ankle worse?”

“I can make it back to camp. I can hobble. I—It’s not getting any better.” Brienne added in a small voice. “And there’s a flare gun. We can. . .we can call for medical attention.”

She tried to get to her feet again. A yelp was ripped out of her when Jaime suddenly yanked her up, hauling her to his chest so he took her weight. His warm breath washed her face. “What are you doing, Jaime?” She demanded, trying to push him away. He locked his arms around her in a grip meant to cut off her oxygen.

His green eyes bored on her. She stopped struggling. “I don’t want my wife hurt.” 

“You don’t think she is already?” She whispered.

“I—I—“Jaime faltered. He held her tighter. “I was jealous. I am sorry, Brienne.”

She looked away.

“I am sorry for what I said, for how I’ve treated you. I am sorry for thinking. . .for thinking you would hurt me. In my defense, I’m so terrified you’ll leave me for someone else that when you told me about Jon I thought about locking us up, shutting away the rest of the world. This is the man you married, Brienne. He's no good.”  
Brienne shook her head. “Why? How can you think that about me? And yourself?”

“Because I worry that someday, you’ll realize that the man you see isn’t the real me. I’m not a better man, Brienne. I’m just a man. An overprivileged asshole who doesn’t deserve someone like you. You're goodness itself.You deserve someone better---”

Brienne slapped a palm over his mouth, her blue eyes fierce. “Shut up.”

Jaime shook her palm away. “It’s true—“

“No more. Jaime, you’re going to have to start believing me when I say you’re a good man. Better, a lot better than you think you are. I wouldn’t love you if you were any less. I can’t. . .I can’t bear it that you still think so low of yourself. That you hate yourself. Please, Jaime.” She suddenly begged, her hands cupping his face. Her ankle was hurting really badly but they were fixing this problem first. “You hurt me when you do that.”

“How can you love me? I’ve betrayed people—“

“One. Just Aerys.”

Jaime hissed as she said his name. She kissed him hard, drawing his lower lip between hers before drawing back. “He no longer has any power over you, Jaime. You’ve proven repeatedly that you have more than talent. What you did. . .it was all due to misguided intentions. You can’t beat yourself up over it forever.” It sounded like she was begging him.

“Can’t you see why I went off like that when you told me about Jon—“

“Jon is a good man. But he’s not you, Jaime. I told you. I never wanted him. His confession came as a shock too.”

He pressed his forehead against hers. “I do trust you, Brienne. More than you know. I love you. You’re my life.”

“Oh, Jaime,” she whispered, her arms sliding around his shoulders. He held her to his chest, murmuring “I love you” and “You’re my life” over and over against her ear. She shivered at the intensity of his words, at her own feelings for him. 

“I don’t want anyone else, Jaime,” she said, clinging to him. It was a grip that would crush the ribs but she didn't care. “I love only you. I love you, I love you.”

“My wife. Mine.” He said, daring her to refuse. 

Never. “My husband.” 

She moaned when their lips met in a searing kiss. She let Jaime pull up her left leg to wrap around his hip. She sank against his chest and he staggered, but managed to keep a firm hold of her and retain their balance. 

Brienne’s body was burning with want, needing Jaime in every way possible, now, right now when he suddenly pulled away. He gave one last consoling kiss before turning around and telling her to hop on his back. Brienne shook her head.

“No, Jaime. No. I’m too heavy. And we’ve been walking for close to two hours. You can’t---not with me like that.”

“What do you propose? That I leave you behind while I get help?”

“What’s wrong with that?”

His eyes went to the heavens before looking at her. “You really think I’d leave my clumsy, idiot, and may I add, injured wife in the middle of the dark forest? Seriously?”

“I’m heavier than you and it’s dark, you said. What if you end up hurting yourself too?”

“You think I would?” Jaime moved closer until he was just a kiss away. “Do you trust me, wife?”

The way he spoke, it was both a challenge and a promise of a heated night between her legs on silk sheets. A familiar, warm dance fluttered in Brienne’s stomach.

“I do.” She whispered.

“Then hop on my back. If I can carry our lumberjack boys the whole day I can certainly handle you. Get on. You want to lose that ankle? Come on. I’m aging here.” 

Brienne hopped on, her arms wrapping around his shoulders. Jaime hooked his hands under her knees and began to walk. She sighed, liking the scent of sun and sweat from his hair, his skin. She kissed him behind the ear. As Jaime walked, she rocked against him. She rested her chin on his shoulder. She wondered if he could feel her breasts jiggling against his back. She kissed him on the nape, whispered his name and that she loved him.

Jaime groaned. “Wife, try not to seduce me. Else I’d be sorely tempted to turn around and give my cock much-needed relief ever since you put your legs around me. Have mercy on your poor husband and _fucking behave,_ Brienne.”


	37. Blackball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tywin is abandoned.

It was Sansa who had suggested it, hence the reason Tywin Lannister was in the grocery store for probably the second time in his life. He wheeled the cart between the aisles, gathering spices and ingredients he would be using for tomorrow’s lunch. “If you’re not going to apologize, the least you can do is do something nice,” Sansa told him. “And by nice it doesn’t mean giving Selwyn a hundred shares of your company. It has to be more tangible than that.”

Tywin had groaned. At his age, he shouldn’t be lectured about doing nice things, about being nice. Nice was for a world of lollipops and balloons. A lion did not play nice and certainly did not take advice from sheep or wolves. Yet here he was, shopping for food, thinking that maybe he and Selwyn Tarth could at least get back to being civil. 

Tywin’s car was waiting for him outside of the grocery store, a sleek, silver thing. The driver relieved him of the bags, knowing well enough to regard this unusual act by his boss as nothing out of the ordinary. But he did ask if Tywin needed help bringing the shopping bags to the apartment, to which he got a frosty no. 

Pride wasn’t the most convenient thing but it saved your face, Tywin thought as he entered the elevator, clutching the bags to his chest. The bags were overflowing with food and he worried they might start spilling or worse, the bags might tear. So he willed the elevator to hurry, cursing under his breath because an apartment such as this did not befit a Lannister in any way. Or any human for that matter. He made a mental note to talk to Jaime about moving his family somewhere bigger and more proper, and also the importance of a comfortable, luxurious mattress. It was rude to offer that abominable, iron-hard mattress to any guest and his back was far from grateful. 

He unlocked the door and pushed it open with his foot. Again he groaned and winced as he bent to retrieve the other bag from his feet. When he straightened up, he saw the familiar, curly mop of curls atop the head of Loras Tyrell kneeling in front of a joined pram. The young man turned toward the door as it clicked open.

“Sir,” he greeted, getting up. As he did, Tywin saw that Drew and Ty were sitting in the pram. Drew yelled, “Gram’pa!” while Ty said with the cutest growl, “Roar!” 

“What’s going on?” Tywin demanded, shuffling to the kitchen. He put the bags on the counter and rubbed his back. As he did, he glared in disapproval at Loras’ skinny jeans. He went to his grandsons, kissing their fragrant, blond heads. With every passing day, they were looking more and more like their father, he thought, allowing himself a sliver of pleasure. The blue eyes and freckles were all Brienne but the rest was Jaime. Cubs today, lions of tomorrow, he thought, smiling at them gently.

Loras looked puzzled and ran his long fingers through his curly hair. “Uh. . .”

“Personally, I think Jaime and Brienne should learn how to relax but it is very convenient that they have a prepared bag always,” Selwyn’s booming voice reverberated through the apartment. He was looking at a dark brown leather case stuffed to the brim with the children’s clothes, toys, and other things they might need while away from home.

Tywin frowned. “Where are you taking my grandsons?”

Loras, looking from one gray man after the other, snapped his fingers. “Uh. I’ll take Drew and Ty downstairs to the car.”

“Wait.” All Tywin had to do was that one word in his low-voiced, enunciated way for Loras to freeze in his tracks. Tywin looked at Selwyn. “Where are you off to now?”

“Cersei’s invited me and the boys to lunch at her house,” Selwyn said, beaming. He was dressed in a gray sweater that emphasized his white hair and the blue brilliance of his old eyes. “Tyrion’s there too and Margaery. The whole gang, from what she told me.”

“Why wasn’t I informed?”

Ty, who was watching his grandfathers talk, suddenly said, “Ass!”

“Seven Hells,” Tywin swore, glaring at Selwyn.

“That means it’s time to pack `em up,” Loras said, grabbing the handle bars of the pram and pushing it. “Mr. Lannister, nice to see you. Uh, General Tarth? In the car?”

“I’ll see you there, boy,” Selwyn said. He shouldered the light blue bag with dancing white elephants and looked at Tywin. Neither man spoke until the door closed behind Loras and the twins. Tywin was the first.

“Nice language my grandsons have picked up again,” he said.

“That wasn’t my doing. Children have a way of always nailing down the truth, don’t you know?” Selwyn replied. “Tywin, if you don’t mind, I shouldn’t keep my host waiting.”

“That host is my daughter. Why are you having lunch with her and I’m not invited?”

“I assumed you were. When you left this morning, I thought you’d gone ahead.”

“I went shopping for groceries! I was going to cook lunch and—and—“ Tywin cut himself off. He wasn’t going to plead with that damnable Selwyn to stay. He was a lion.

“If I’d known your plans, I would have told Cersei no. But she was quite adamant that I go. I’m sorry. . .for what happened, Tywin. But you can still join us. She’s your daughter. Of course she’d love to see you.”

“I wasn’t invited.” Twyin pointed out. He suddenly felt very tired.

“Again, I’m sorry.” Now Tywin felt truly pathetic because Selwyn Tarth was looking at him with pity. He waved his hand away and mumbled he should go.

After Selwyn left, Tywin glumly eyed the grocery bags on the kitchen counter. He heaved a long, heavy sigh and started unpacking them.  
So this was the first step. Margaery Tyrell sure worked fast. If Tywin wasn’t careful, she’d soon have Jaime and Brienne on her side too. He didn’t know whether to put a contract out on the pretty brunette and admire her. He settled for the latter. She made Tyrion happy and she was carrying his grandchild.

As Tywin finished filling up the fridge and the shelves, his phone rang. The screen flashed with Jaime’s name. He quickly answered. “Son?”  
“Father.” Jaime sounded relieved though a little tired. “Are you home? I tried contacting Selwyn first but it just went straight to voice mail. Is he there?”

Why did no one want to talk to him? Was he that. . .abhorrent? “No, he’s not here. He’s off to lunch with your sister.”

“Oh. He must be in transit. Where are you? You’ll be joining them later, is that it?”

Tywin did not need another person feeling sorry for him. “What can I do for you?”

“Just checking in. Brienne and I will be home a day early. She sprained her ankle. She’s alright. We’re just back at the hotel—“

“What the hell did you do that your wife is coming home injured?” Tywin demanded. 

“Hey! Ease up, Father. I didn’t do anything. Neither did she. Things happen. I told her we did not have to go home right away since she’s hurt but she’s stubborn and misses our sons. We’ll be arriving sometime in the afternoon. I’m sorry for the inconvenience this will cause but we can put you up in a hotel—“

“No. I can go home. I don’t mind. Selwyn would like that, however.”

“That’s great to hear. I’ll call again in a while.”

“So where are you? Hospital?” 

If Jaime was surprised he wanted to keep talking, he didn’t sound like it when he answered, “We’re back at the hotel. Resting. You’ve no idea how thankful I am for a toilet and running water. Uh, Father, I should get going. Talk to you soon. Goodbye.”

Tywin continued to hold his phone to his ear long after Jaime had hung up.

Jaime smiled as he put the phone down. His skin was flushed as Brienne pressed kisses around his neck, behind his ear, his head, smooshing her nose through his hair. He turned and took her lips, tilting his head as he did.

“I was talking to my father, you know,” he told her, licking the plump curve of her lips before pressing kisses. He smiled against her mouth as she pushed her fingers through his hair, liking the soft, smooth texture it was restored to.

“You don’t like talking to your father,” she reminded him. “And I want you back in bed.”

He let her pull him down until he was settled on top of her. Jaime lost himself in their gentle but deep kisses, wishing this was all he could do forever, hold Brienne, be held by Brienne, kiss Brienne. He brushed his lips against the firm line of her cheek as he tucked his hand under her right knee, bending to hook it around his hip. A groan flitted from him when she wrapped her left leg around him and pulled him close until his burgeoning cock was pressed right on the warm niche of her cunt. Their pubic curls rubbed together, creating a hot, golden friction that had them gasping.

They had to be airlifted from their camp because the paramedics did not want to carry Brienne by stretcher through rough terrain. His wife was one hell of a trooper. Jaime was ready to die by the time he staggered to the camp, stubbornly refusing to rest because every second not poured into walking meant she was in pain longer. She urged him repeatedly to rest but he ignored her. He didn’t let her see his pale face but she had definitely felt his soaked-through clothes. He put her in the tent, propped her ankle up then went outside to warm some water. While waiting for it to boil, he fired the flare gun three times in the air to make sure it would be seen.

He used his t-shirt, dirty as it was, as a warm compress for her ankle. It was swollen but had not ballooned to epic proportions, thankfully. As the warm cocoon of his t-shirt soothed some of the soreness, Jaime hauled Brienne in his arms and pressed random kisses around her face. Her face was a tight mask of a grimace but she assured him between kisses she was fine. He knew she was. But he didn't like her hurt, even if it was just a sprained ankle. He had breathed a prayer of thanks to the gods when the paramedics arrived. 

They were brought to the hospital in record time. After Brienne’s ankle was cleaned and bound, Jaime was given a prescription for her pills as well as instructions to keep her ankle bagged in plastic when taking a bath. Then they were brought back to the hotel by a car service, compliments of Melisandre. As soon as they were past the door of their suite, Jaime realized the extent of his exhaustion—he could barely keep his eyes open and he was beginning to slur his words. Brienne too was yawning hugely. All they had to was exchange a look before they stripped off their clothes. He had to tear the cuff of her pants with a tool kit from one of her pockets to yank it down her bound ankle. Naked, Jaime pulled his wife to bed with him, drew the comforter over them. He spooned her back, his lips pressed on her shoulder smelling of moonlight and sweat. Brienne started snoring. Jaime kissed her on the cheek and followed.

It was Brienne who woke up first hours later. Chafing at how sticky and dirty she felt, she insisted on taking a quick shower. Jaime would rather sleep but he wasn’t going to let her hobble on a slippery floor. He carried her o the bathroom in spite of her protests. As the tub filled with warm water, he wrapped her ankle in a plastic bag. Brienne insisted she could get herself in the tub fine so Jaime let her, knowing better than to fight her on this. She scooted forward so he could join her.  
It wasn’t a sexy, sensual bath. They scrubbed soap on their skin until they were pink, rubbing hard on crevices and areas likely to have more dirt than the rest. They shampooed their hair, dipped their heads in the water. Jaime actually groaned when he brushed his teeth. They had toothbrushes with them while camping but with last night’s events, it felt like a long time since he had last cleaned his teeth. Brienne laughed but she agreed.

Clean and smelling of soap, they got dressed. It was morning but it was pajamas they put on. Again they crawled back to bed, drew the comforter over their bodies. This time Brienne flung her arm around Jaime’s stomach, rested her head on his chest. They were asleep by the time it was sunrise.

It was a the phone call from the front desk that woke them up sometime before noon. Jaime groaned, pushing his face against Brienne’s back as she mumbled into the phone. He slipped a hand under her shirt to caress her warm stomach. Then she was hanging up and turning to him. He sleepily nuzzled her cloth-covered shoulder, her breast.

“They want to send us lunch.”

Jaime opened one eye. Brienne’s pale, straw-blond hair was a mass of unruly waves and her sapphire eyes were still heavy with sleep. Her mouth was red and cracked. Jaime grinned at the familiar twitching in his pants. He opened both eyes. 

“Think we can fuck before they do?” 

Brienne smiled and put her head back on the pillow. She brushed her fingers on his jaw. “Are you up to the challenge, husband?”

Ten minutes later, as Brienne let out a strangled cry and Jaime shouted his release, a firm knock arrived at their door. They froze, panting. Jaime blinked repeatedly through the haze until he saw blue eyes, flushed, heavily-freckled skin. Brienne squirmed and Jaime realized that he was still holding on firmly to long legs he had pulled over his shoulders just before fucking her. He smiled, leaned down for a kiss. The motion caused Brienne’s legs to press down on her chest, and his cock hit her right on the spot again that had her moaning. Her still-spasming cunt squeezed him.

“I believe that’s room service,” he told her, rubbing his cock against that magic spot. His eyes burned as she moaned.

_“Hmm. Jaime.”_

“You’ll have to let my cock go, wife.”

Another knock. He smiled at her grunt of protest and began to pull out. Brienne flattened her back on the bed and lowered her legs. She pulled the blanket to her shoulders. Jaime stepped into his pajamas. He closed the door of their bedroom, not wanting anyone to know how his wife looked like after going wild with his cock pounding in her. That was only for him to know. Jaime let the server in. 

“Compliments of Miss Melisandre,” the server told him as he wheeled the cart inside. The rich aromas of food made his stomach growl.“Where do you want this, Mr. Lannister?”

“Over there,” Jaime pointed at the dining area. “And if you could open the drapes?”

“Of course.”

Jaime tipped him and sent him away. He returned to the bedroom and saw Brienne sitting up on the side of the bed. She had dressed in a t-shirt and was now pulling on her pajamas, gingerly slipping her ankle through the leg. “Melisandre sent us the entire menu,” he said.

“That’s nice of her. I’m starving,” Brienne confessed.

He slipped an arm around her waist and together, they went to the dining table.They worked through their breakfast fairly quickly—they were that hungry. They smiled warmly at each other through the rims of their coffee cups--brewed coffee was clearly their favorite in this feast. Then Jaime's hand fell on Brienne's thigh. She turned and kissed him before pulling away and glancing pointedly at the half-open door of their bedroom.They shuffled back there, his arm once again around her waist. Once in bed they removed their clothes. Since Brienne was taking time with her pants, Jaime decided to call Selwyn to tell him what happened. His calls went to voice mail so he called his father. Brienne’s hand caressing his thigh had him ending the call abruptly. 

Now Jaime’s thoughts were not on the packing they still had to do nor on what will happen in the next thirty minutes. He let Brienne take the lead this time, kissing him, touching him. Her injury limited the positions they could engage in but Jaime didn’t care. So long as he got to fuck his wife and made her scream, he was a happy man. And this was exactly what he got soon after, Brienne reduced to cries and whimpers as she shattered beautifully around him once again, his name dragged from her throat.

“One would think it’s your medication that’s made you extra-horny, wife,” he couldn’t help but tease her then licked the slim thread of sweat sliding down her neck. Gods, she was delicious. His softening cock remained in her cunt. Jaime propped himself up with his hands so he could look down at her red face and swollen mouth. His smile was unapologetically cocky.  
“No. It’s the bed and running water that’s making me so,” Brienne told him. Playing with his hair, she said softly, “Will you grow your hair again?”

“Missing my leonine mane, aren't you?” Jaime asked, brushing his lips gently on her breasts. He pressed his tongue flat on a tight nipple. 

“Yes.” She answered, arching against him. “Oh, my Jaime.”

He sucked her nipples, making sure to do it as noisily as possible. She wailed, clutching at his head, breathing his name in rough pants. As his kisses made her nipple red and tight, he gave the other a hard pinch that had Brienne half-rising from the bed and groaning his name. He started to kiss down her body—to do it, he had to pull his cock out of her cunt. He’ll be inside her again soon, he thought, rubbing his bearded cheek on her stomach, her hipbone. He pressed feather-light kisses on her thigh, down her leg until he reached her right ankle. Cradling it gently in his hands, he raised his green eyes to her.

“Does it hurt?”

“It throbs every now and then,” Brienne told him. “But it’s okay.”

“Looks like you’ll be staying home for a while, wife,” Jaime gently put her ankle down and began to kiss his way up her left leg.

“I think I can hold classes through Wype,” she said thoughtfully. “I’ll just need to clear it with my boss first. You think I’ll be allowed to do that?”  
He laughed, flicking a tongue on her thigh before resting his chin on it. “Brienne, you’re the only person I know who’s still wired to work despite having a perfectly good excuse to stay home. Maybe they’ll have another professor take over in the meantime. Or is it an encroachment of your territory?”

“Of course not,” she answered, blushing. “I would like that, come to think of it. My syllabus and notes are in place and he or she is welcome to tweak.”

Jaime ruffled the curls of her cunt but did not take it further than that. He rested his head on her stomach and looked at her again. Brienne stared at him then asked, “Did we do the right thing?”

“Which was what? Marry? Have children? Fuck before I took you out on our first date?” He dipped his tongue in her navel. Her nipples tightened to the point of pain.

She scrunched her face in pretend anger before giving his hair a playful tug. Jaime chuckled and nuzzled the skin of her stomach. “Coming here.”  
“I regret you got hurt,” he said, glancing down at her bound ankle.

“And. . .?”

“We wouldn’t have been able to talk about a lot of the things we talked about if we just stayed home. We needed this time, Brienne.”  
The look of relief on her face was obvious. “I think so too.”

Jaime felt her relaxing. He propped himself up with a fist under his chin. His other hand caressed her. “Did you think I thought this a waste of time?”

“At first,” Brienne admitted. “But you finished the questionnaire with me and you learned how to fish. . .asked questions.” Her eyes were big, inquisitive pools. “Do you still think we should know everything about each other?”

He shook his head. “You’re right on that one, wife. But,” he added, “I can understand why people fall in love with you.”

“I'm not even sure if what Jon had for me was love. But if that's what he thought. . .and it's over, Jaime. He told me himself. Besides, I don’t care about the others.” Brienne declared. Her sapphire eyes flashed. “Only you. That you love me.”

“Always, Brienne,” Jaime whispered. He lowered his head and kissed her on the lips, telling her with every brush, every stroke of his tongue how much, how much more. “Always.”

She pulled him in her arms and he rested his head on her heart. It beat strong and true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loras makes a brief appearance. I would think Cersei sent him to Selwyn to help prepare the children.


	38. No Need for RSVP

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The King of Darkness shows up (a.k.a. Tywin Lannister)

There was an abundance of kisses and embraces for Selwyn Tarth when he arrived at the Baratheons with his grandsons. Cersei, looking lovely with her golden hair in a loose French braid and wearing a green wrap dress that matched her eyes, was the first to put her arms around him. Tyrion was next in line, making Selwyn bend so they could shake hands. One would think his features grotesque due to his white-blond hair, his mismatched black and green eyes. His smile as he presented his wife Margaery was one of pride and love, softening the harshness of his face. Margaery smiled at Tyrion before she turned to Selwyn and put her slim arms around him. 

Robert was next. Tall, broad-shouldered with angular features, he had a face that was mightily feared in the courtroom. There were shadows under his blue eyes, and from the way he kept on looking at Cersei with concern as she chatted with the guests, one need not think hard about their possible source. Selwyn grinned as Joffrey threw his arms around his waist. Except for his bright green eyes, he was all Baratheon with his thick black hair and tall, broad frame. He remained on Selwyn’s side, clinging to his leg as Oberyn and Ellaria Martell approached.

Ellaria had a kiss for Selwyn that left him blushing, and a kiss from Oberyn that had him wrinkling his forehead. Yet their embrace was warm and friendly, as if they saw him as family and they did. As Cersei called on everyone to adjourn to the dining room, Loras discreetly took Joffrey, Drew and Ty to another area of the house. 

The food was delicious and the conversation lively and unending. Much laughter laced their meal. It gave Selwyn relief that his daughter was part of this group. At the back of his mind was the image of Tywin leaning against the kitchen counter when he left, his face as impassive as ever, his green eyes cold. Selwyn understood why they didn’t want him around—Seven Hells, he didn’t like the man either—but it wasn’t right that they had all abandoned him. He wondered how to fix this mistake, even when it should be Tywin doing the grunt work.

Robert tapped his fork gently on a goblet. The soft, tingling sound slowly brought the buzzing conversation to a quiet. Sitting on the other end of the table, Cersei smiled at her husband, the first time she had looked truly happy, Selwyn thought. 

“Cersei and I have been looking forward to this rather impromptu but wonderful gathering of family and friends,” Robert began, tipping his glass toward Ellaria and Oberyn. “We haven’t entertained in recent months but that’s because Cersei was promoted to chief resident—“ Tyrion let out a whoop and Margaery and his sister smiled at him—“and as it is with new jobs, things get shuffled around a bit, there’s an adjustment period. But I have no doubt that my wife would flourish and find more success in the operating room just as she would at home with her husband and her son—and in a few months, two additions in the family we have been waiting for. We may not be looking forward to sleepless nights--” everyone chuckled at that—“but we are definitely excited to meet our twins. We have decided to name them Tommen and Myrcella.”

“What beautiful names!” Margaery exclaimed, clapping her hands and beaming hugely. Applause rang throughout the table.  
Selwyn, sitting beside Cersei, squeezed her hand. “I’m sure they can’t wait to meet their mother as well.”

“That’s wonderful to hear, Selwyn. Thank you,” Cersei told him. 

“I still can’t believe you’re having twins.” Margaery’s voice rang clear from the other end of the table, where she sat close to Robert. In a theatrical whisper to Tyrion, she said, “We should try for twins next.”

Tyrion’s laugh was rich. “Let’s get this one born first, Miss Tyrell,” he said, his pudgy hand gentle on her round belly. He exchanged a soft, private look with Margaery as she placed her soft, unlined hand over his.

“Jaime and Brienne surely have a ton of advice for raising twins,” Ellaria spoke up. 

“How are they?” Oberyn asked. He was holding Ellaria’s hand under the table. “Is Jaime still alive?” He joked.

“Haven’t heard from them,” Selwyn answered. “So they are alright. And shame on you, Oberyn, for betting against your best friend.”  
“Nah. He understands that where Brienne’s concerned, she’s the clear winner.” 

Laughter again. As they each settled into cozy conversations, a doorbell chimed. Startled, Cersei looked at Robert, “Expecting someone?”

“No, my heart. Stay here. I’ll answer it.” Robert said, pushing his chair back. On his way out, Cersei grabbed his hand. Robert lowered his head and kissed her gently, looked in her eyes and then continued on his way out. 

Seeing the worry on her face, Margaery said, “Robert probably got you flowers.”

Cersei shook her head, laughing. “That I know won’t happen. I’m allergic to flowers.”

Heavy footsteps, more than one set, Selwyn deduced, slowly reached them. When they all turned toward the doorway, they saw Robert looking grim. 

Behind him stood Tywin Lannister.

Tyrion, startled, swallowed his wine wrong and started coughing. Margaery had to pound him heavily between the shoulder blades until he stopped. 

“Father.” Cersei said, unable to hide her surprise. She started to stand up and Selwyn quickly got to his feet and offered his hand. She took it, her small grip easily swallowed by his broad, wide hand. Robert strode toward her and put his arm around her waist. To anyone else, it was an affectionate gesture. The darkness in his blue eyes and his stance indicated that it was one of protection and that Tywin was going to have to tread carefully if he didn’t want to deal with a stag’s temper, though yes, he was only a stag against a lion. He exchanged a look with Cersei before they turned their attention back to Tywin.

“It seems my timing is very inappropriate,” Tywin said drily, looking at the curious faces around him.

“We weren’t expecting you, Father,” Tyrion said. Now that he wasn’t coughing, he sat straight and firm in his chair. Margaery’s eyes were wide as she looked at her husband then her goodfather. For the first time, shock had robbed her of token pleasantries. As if sensing her trouble, Tyrion threaded his fingers between hers, pulling her hand to his lap. That seemed to give her some relief as she let out a deep sigh. 

“Indeed. Being that I was not invited.” 

“That doesn’t mean there’s no room in the table, Tywin.” Selwyn said. He looked at his other dining companions significantly. “You are more than welcome, I’m sure—“

“How can you say those things?” Cersei suddenly demanded, her eyes green fire as she glared at Tywin. “About Brienne? And Margaery? Me?” 

Selwyn sat down, psychologically withdrawing himself from the confrontation between father and daughter. 

“Selwyn may have been absent for most of Brienne’s life but he never once thought her as nothing more than—Robert, how did he say it?”

“`Getting twins out of her.’” Robert and Selwyn said glumly. Oberyn, looking at Ellaria, winced. She touched his cheek comfortingly and whispered something in his ear. Margaery, pretty despite her clear annoyance with Tywin, didn’t notice Tyrion kiss her hand.  
“I’m not asking you to be proud of us just because we’re women,” Cersei said to Tywin. “The gods know you can’t be asked to do anything. But if you’re not going to recognize and accept what we’ve done and who we are, we don’t want you in our lives.”

Tywin narrowed his eyes at Margaery. “You work fast.”

Margaery’s eyes were wide. “Hey, I don’t work _that_ fast.”

As Tywin continued to glower at her, Tyrion shifted in front of his wife protectively. “May I remind you that she is my wife, Father. You harm her and you’ll answer to me.”

Tywin started. “Where in Seven Hells did you get that idea?”

Robert crossed his arms. “What brings you here, Tywin?”

“I have come here to make my apologies, though I wonder what would be the point.” Tywin said after a moment’s pause. “There is no excuse for my words, or my behaviour, only that I was raised to believe that men and women have very specific roles and limits. A young woman—er, Sansa, made me see the error of my ways. And she did point out that if I thought her any less because of her gender I shouldn’t be turning to her advice at all.” He spread his hands and shrugged. “She’s right.”

“The things you said were more than offensive,” Cersei was not willing to accept his apology right away. Selwyn had to hand it to her. She was not one to be swayed by sincere and affectionate words and gestures. “If Brienne knew—if Jaime knew what you intended to do—“

“I am a desperate man, daughter, desperate to secure my legacy.” Tywin then turned to Selwyn. “Brienne has done more for the family than I thought possible, and I don’t mean just because of Drew and Ty. She brought my children together,” he said, nodding at Cersei and Tyrion. “Children who couldn’t be bothered by their aging lion of a father but would always be quick to defend and protect her, I think. It takes a person of a very high esteem to inspire that among. . .er, us lions.”

“Brienne is goodness itself,” Selwyn said softly, his startlingly blue eyes aglow with love and pride at the thought of his only daughter. “She has the kindest heart.”

“She makes Jaime a better man. I think all of us are better because of her.” Tywin said, nodding. Then he turned to Cersei. “I admit that your, ah, unusual career—“

As Cersei narrowed her eyes, Robert grumbled. “Be careful.”

“Again, I was raised thinking men and women were for specific roles only, that they were to remain in their lanes. It took a while—I’m still getting used to the idea, honestly, of the path your life has taken. It’s not what I planned for you but you know yourself better, daughter. You made the right choice. I can’t, nor should anyone, fault you for that.”

Cersei’s pinched expression wavered, somewhat. She settled for a brief nod. Robert pulled her hand in his as Tywin looked at Margaery.

“You are an unstoppable force of nature, Margaery. You decide on something and you do it. You’re not afraid to take the bull by the horns or to face a lion armed only with your wits and courage. I apologize. You have my word that I won’t infect future Lannisters with the way I used to think. Just please, do not take my children and grandchildren away from me.”

Margaery, touched by his apology, gave him a beautiful smile that reminded everyone in the room of the Maiden. “I would never do that, Tywin.”

“What a formidable woman you are,” Tyrion told her admiringly. “You actually scared my father. Gods, Miss Tyrell, you give me more reason to love and worship you.”

Margaery giggled at his words and kissed him soundly on the lips. “Please do so, Mr. Lannister.”

“And Ellaria,” Tywin said to her. “I think Brienne is very fortunate to have a friend in you. I hope to see more of you in the future. And you too, Oberyn.”

“Well,” Oberyn said with a grin. “I don’t have princely duties anymore so my calendar is a lot more free. Ribbon-cutting takes up a lot of royal duties, you know.” Ellaria smiled at him.

“Now,” Tywin looked at everyone. “I shall leave you to your meal.”

He turned and began to walk away. Robert looked at Cersei, who nodded and said, “Father. Why don’t you join us?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realized that all three women are pregnant. How can I forget this? LOL.


	39. Who We Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne pay Melisandre a final visit. Their relationship makes Melisandre think things.

Melisandre did not expect to hear from the Lannisters anymore, so she was surprised when her assistant informed her they had requested a meeting with her at three in the afternoon. Melisandre agreed and had her office set up so Brienne could prop her leg up and be comfortable. She also provided her staff a list of refreshments and snacks that she knew the couple would like. Something told her that while they would appreciate alcohol, they were not big drinkers. Coffee was the sure-fire choice. 

At ten minutes to three, she opened the door to find the couple standing there. Brienne, looking a little tired but still bright-eyed, leaned heavily on the crutch tucked under her armpit. She was dressed in a white button-down shirt and a short denim skirt that revealed her enviable long, long legs. She wore a black sneaker on one foot as the other was bound. Jaime stood beside her, touching her of course. He also looked a little tired but he was smiling at Brienne when Melisandre opened the door.

She let them in. Jaime hovered by Brienne’s side, who proceeded to show him she was really capable of getting herself to the couch with the crutch. She sat down with little grace and elegance but Melisandre wasn’t going to fault her for that. Her smile lit up her face as Melisandre asked if she would like to put her leg up, gesturing at the backless and armless chair she could easily push forward. “Thank you, yes. I would like that,” Brienne told her, a lovely pink bloom on her cheeks.

As the Lannisters got settled, a cart of refreshments and snacks arrived. Melisandre offered them coffee, which they both took. But it was only Jaime who partook of the snacks, a slice of raspberry cream pie. Melisandre was looking over her notes so she didn’t notice the suggestive way Jaime licked the dessert, or the blush on Brienne’s cheeks leaping to spectrum of vivid scarlet. He smiled as her breath hitched. 

“How are you? Brienne, how are you doing?” Melisandre asked, looking up from her notes.

“I’m okay. We both are.” She glanced down at her ankle. “It’s a little inconvenient but it’s only for a couple of weeks.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. But I hope you’re comfortable at least?”

“We are. The lunch was very nice. Thank you for that.” Jaime told her.

Melisandre smiled at them. “But you didn’t come here to thank me for that.”

“Brienne insists that we finish the session.” Jaime laughed when she elbowed him. “We think, you know, things are left up in the air so we’d like to close the book on this properly.”

“No problem. So. . .I suppose you talked about secrets?”

“I have to agree with Brienne. I’ve always thought that trust is knowing everything about your partner. But there are some things you need not know. It doesn’t mean that omission is lying, it’s just that your partner has a right to her own secrets.” Jaime put his hand on Brienne’s knee and looked at her. “It was a difficult exercise.”

As Melisandre nodded, Brienne spoke up. “It was difficult for both of us. I had to let Jaime in on things I did not believe he had to know—and I have not changed my mind, now that he knows them. I was worried he would struggle getting his head around some things—“

“I sure did,” Jaime admitted.

“And I also worried whether he will see me differently, if his feelings would change knowing these things—“

“Absolutely not, wife.” Jaime’s voice was fierce.

“But you still continued with the exercise? Despite the difficulty?” Melisandre asked.

Brienne blushed. “My husband and I are both as stubborn as bulls, I guess. When he decides to do something, he will do it, damn the consequences. And when I give my word, I don’t renege on it, no matter what. I guess this is something we have to learn.”

“Secrets can damage a relationship just as they can strengthen it,” Melisandre said thoughtfully. “And we have the two of you, starting on opposite sides of the issue, before Jaime saw your side, Brienne. What do you think made you change your mind, Jaime?”

“It was knowing these things about my wife.” His answer came after a few seconds of quiet. “I don’t love her any less. In fact I love her more. But I’m only a man. I can’t. . .despite my feelings for her, something in me still worries that she’ll leave me. This one has left quite a trail of broken hearts,” he teased gently, making Brienne frown. “Brienne had to remind me that we both have our own fears with the other but what makes us remain in our marriage, more than love, is trust. I trust Brienne.” 

Melisandre was puzzled. “Broken hearts?”

Brienne shook her head. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

Jaime nodded. “Yeah. I don’t think I can hear it again.”

“Fair enough.” Melisandre agreed.

“I have a question, before we leave.” Brienne looked at Jaime as if to confirm something with him first before turning to Melisandre. “Uh, you had us assume roles. Me a Marshall and Jaime a prisoner? I was wondering what was the purpose of that. Not that I’m questioning you, Melisandre I just. . .uh. . .” Her face and neck was a rich scarlet. “I mean, I didn’t see what they had to do with us.”

Ah. That, Melisandre had an answer.

“Your test and interview results told me that you are on opposite sides when it comes to a lot of things. Where Jaime is impulsive, you consider every choice. Where you tread carefully he plunges head on. You more than complement each other. But I did wonder how far that can take you. So I thought to assign you roles that really emphasize your difference. You, Brienne, an enforcer of the law and Jaime a criminal.”

“You made me into a murderer and a sister-fucker.” Jaime said with a wince. Brienne kissed him on the cheek as if to comfort him and he held her close.

Melisandre smiled. “Your roles too represent events from your lives that have marked you and quite influential in shaping up who you’ve become at this point in your lives. Jaime, your test result showed that you still have extreme guilt over a betrayal. I didn’t ask, nor do I want to know what it is, but it’s hung over you so for so long. I thought that by making you as the worst criminal I could think of, the ultimate betrayer—then you could confront it and realize that this not who you are and all you will be. It’s a part of you but not the sum of you.”

“I told you, husband.” Brienne said to Jaime in a mild, scolding tone. .

“The same goes with you, Brienne. Your results showed that you always do the right thing, no matter what. But you had to realize that a moral compass doesn’t point north all the time, and there are times where the existence of one is questionable. What’s right isn’t always so clear-cut. Being with Jaime, again, going by your result, has made you more open and more accepting of people. Sympathy isn’t a problem for you but empathy appears to be something you struggle with. We all do, just so you know.”

After the Lannisters left, Melisandre was still sitting behind her desk finalizing her notes. They were, hands down, the most unusual couple she had as clients. Passion and a strong devotion were rare to find these days, she thought, writing. It was even harder encountering people such as Jaime and Brienne Lannister who wanted to be nothing but the best for each other, to bring out the best in their partner. This was selflessness Melisandre couldn’t remember in any of her clients and she had been in the business for a long time. She paused, her thoughts suddenly taking a wistful turn. 

_Maybe it won’t be so bad to be a partner one of these days._

 

Back in their suite, Jaime and Brienne started packing for their return trip tomorrow. Jaime insisted on taking care of the entire process. Brienne insisted that a sprained ankle didn’t make her an invalid. The stubborn glint in her husband’s eye told her he didn’t want her going around and possibly hurting herself even more—it had been scant twenty-four hours since the accident. So she relented and said that she will sit on the bed and check their bags for anything he might miss and also direct him to take the free shampoos and toilet paper. 

Jaime raised an eyebrow at her. “You seem to forget that as a Lannister we will never have trouble affording hygiene necessities, Brienne.”

“You forget that being a Lannister, we hardly get free stuff. Come on. We paid for them. Put them in the bag.” 

“Who would have thought that my wife, the ever-honorable Brienne Lannister would be masterminding a theft.” Jaime said as he raided the bathroom for the said items.

“I’m not! If we get the robes and the pillows and the TV, that’s stealing! It’s just shampoos and stuff.” Brienne pointed out. She was frowning when Jaime emerged from the bathroom, hands full of the packaged soaps and the little bottles of shampoo.

“Calm down. I’m just teasing you, wife.” He said, bending to kiss her. She let him kiss her so he knew she wasn’t mad. 

Jaime put their things in the bag and Brienne inspected them before nodding in approval. Done, she pushed herself further on the bed until she could lean against the headboard. Still wearing her button-down and mini-skirt, she stretched out her legs before her. Jaime kicked off his shoes and lay down beside her. She hummed contentedly as he put his head on her shoulder and played with the buttons of her top.

“Where do you want us to have dinner tonight?” He asked, looking up at her. He put his arm round her waist and breathed deeply. He missed her vanilla soap but hotel-soap-Brienne smelled good too. 

“Is it okay if we just stayed in?” Brienne asked. “I’m still tired.”

Jaime felt tired too. When they were camping, he hardly felt it. There was too much to see and so much going on, and it wasn’t like they were sleeping on the ground with rocks for pillows. Now that they were surrounded with every modern comfort and convenience, he too was loathed to leave the comfort of goosedown pillows and thousand-thread-count sheets. 

“No problem. Room service for dinner it is, then.”

“Sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for? If I didn’t agree you’d hear it.”

She had to smile at that. Tact was not one of her husband’s best qualities.

“Besides, it means I get to have you for myself. No hosts or servers fawning all over us. If I want to lick sauce off the side of your mouth, I can, obscenely, I’d like to add. I can fuck you with my fingers and you won’t be all tensed because we’re in public. Or we can just hold hands and watch a movie.” He spoke tenderly, as if reading her love poems. Brienne looked at him, remembering that one of the things he wished to change was they had more time with each other that did not just involve sex. Her husband would never be romantic in a way that involved roses and chocolates but his brand of romance was exactly what she wanted.

“I like that. A movie. Dinner. The couch. Just like we used to do.” She said. Jaime’s smile was all dimples and warmth.

She let him press her on the pillows when he rose to his knees and kissed her. Then he plucked the menu from the bedside table. “Order whatever you want. I'd like to check out the DVDs I spied by the TV earlier. ”

Jaime leaped off the bed, jostling her and making her laugh. He walked past the double doors. Brienne sat up, reached for the phone and began to read items off the menu. She could hear Jaime fiddling with the TV so she heaved herself up and off the bed. She glanced at her crutch resting on a divan then decided to leave it there. She could hobble, anyway. But the skirt, easy to put on, hindered her movements so she pulled it off.

Jaime, sticking a DVD in the slot, glanced at her when she shuffled to the living room. He smiled in pleasure at the sight of her wearing only a shirt, her eyes and her freckles. “Dessert comes first, eh, wife?” His eyes lingering appreciatively on her bare legs.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, blushing as she flopped heavily on the couch. “I just wanted to be comfortable, that’s all. What are we watching?”

 _“`The Dance of Dragons,’”_ Jaime said as he hit PLAY on the remote and sat down beside her. 

“Oh! How wonderful.” Brienne said happily. It was her favorite movie. She lay on the couch, stretching her legs. Jaime, basking in her joy, sat down next to her. He picked up her legs and put them on his lap while he stretched his own legs on the coffee table. 

“So, did you order the entire menu? You took quite a while.” Jaime said, kissing her knees.

Brienne nodded. “I went a bit mad, true. But what’s the point of our last night in our suite if we don’t indulge?” 

“Guess that means what I only think it means.” Jaime shot her a naughty grin before turning his attention back to the TV. 

“And what’s that?”

“Why, getting supremely spoiled by you. You know, blow jobs, your cunt, a massage from you, being hand-fed peeled grapes. The works. I expect you to give me the royal treatment I have long been denied, wife. Your husband is too delicate against the elements of the wild, I'm afraid. And you enjoyed torturing me with the fish too much.” 

In reply, Brienne snatched the pillow from under her head and threw it at him. She rose to her knees and continued hitting him with it, laughing at his protests. Jaime shouted, “Peace!” but he had begun tickling her, making her shriek. Brienne retaliated by tickling him too. They fell on the floor, fingers poking at each other's ticklish, sensitive spots. The movie was was forgotten. 

They were still laughing when room service came knocking twenty minutes later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad to be near the end! Only one more chapter to go!


	40. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place three months after Chapter 39.

Three months later

 

It had been a tense week. The schoolyear was coming to a close. Along with juggling grades and departmental duties, she was also being evaluated, the last step whether she would be given tenure or not. Drew and Ty distracted her with their widening vocabulary and overall sweetness, welcoming her home with a kiss and, “We missed you, Mommy,” when she got home. She held them tight to her chest, having found relief after a day that was too tiring, too long. 

The twins had a new nanny, a young woman named Taena Merryweather. She was hired a month after their Riverlands trip. She had thick, dark hair and a wholesome appeal that was fresh and cute. She had a double degree in Early Childhood Development and Psychology. Jaime and Brienne hired her on the basis of their sons’ interaction with her and Loras' recommendation. She was friendly and full of smiles, and often had a little game that kept her golden-haired charges occupied. When she swung by LSM Creatives to pick up the boys, Addam and Bronn had been enthralled by her. Jaime sternly reminded them that they were married men, with children, and if they messed with his children’s nanny in any way he was going to hang them by the balls. Bronn pointed out that no harm came from looking and proceeded to flirt with Taena. 

Jaime had no way of shaking off his asshole partners two weeks later, who insisted on paying his sons a visit. He knew they were salivating at the prospect of seeing Taena. Sure enough, as soon as Bronn and Addam were past the door, they went straight to Taena, following her around the kitchen like the dogs they were as she prepared snacks for the children. Jaime swung his tie over his shoulder and stepped over the playpen to be with sons. “Daddy!” Drew and Ty exclaimed, holding up their long, plump arms to embrace him. 

“I did not expect advertising men to be, well, you know, family men.” Taena was saying to Bronn and Addam. “I thought they were always smoking cigars and chasing women.”

As Jaime snorted and made funny faces to his sons, Addam said smoothly, “Oh, we’re the good sort, Taena.”

Just then, somebody rang the buzzer. Taena rushed over to answer it. “Yes? Oh, you’re here. Great. Jaime, is it okay for my friend to come up? And you did ask to meet her.”

Jaime’s smile was huge. Drew was ruffling his hair while Ty sat quietly on his lap. “Sure. No problem.”

As Taena unlocked the door, Bronn winked at Jaime. “Friend, huh?”

Jaime was whistling as Taena opened the door and a pretty redhead entered. Bronn and Addam were all smiles until Taena kissed her on the lips, took her hand and introduced her as Ygritte. As Bronn frowned and Addam looked puzzled, Jaime went to the woman with his hand outstretched. “Hello, Ygritte. It’s nice to meet you at last. Taena’s told us so much about you.”

After the women left, Addam still looked like he’d been punched in the face. Bronn glared at Jaime. “We did not deserve that betrayal, pretty boy.”

“What? It wasn’t a secret but it’s her life. It has no bearing with her work.” Jaime said innocently.

That night, Jaime told Brienne what happened and she threw back her head, laughing uproariously. He laughed along with her, enjoying that wonderful, warm sound, her red cheeks and how her body shook vigorously. When she was spent, her head dropped on Jaime’s shoulder and he held her. He inhaled the familiar scent of her vanilla soap and musk.

They had made good on their promise to spend more time with each other. Their sex life was as active as ever—Jaime eagerly offered himself as a pleasant distraction every night this week because Brienne was so tensed with her evaluation—but they made sure to also do things with just each other that did not involve sex. They did try, anyway. Last month they went out bowling, a most unsexy activity until Jaime proposed that the one to score the most strikes would decide where to have sex afterward. Brienne won and was quick to collect on her prize by pushing a very non-resistant Jaime to the backseat of their car SUV. They smothered each other’s cries with kisses. Jaime panted later on that he was _so glad_ to be wrong that it was only during vacations when Brienne wanted to fuck in public. Brienne told him firmly it wasn't happening again. Jaime proved her wrong two nights later when he fucked her on his desk in the dark, though empty offices of LSM Creatives--and brought her to a screaming climax, no less. His shoulder still bore her purple bite marks. And he kept her underwear in the bottom drawer. 

They scheduled date nights—whether dinner at Wyman Manderly or a movie, or going to the theatre, even just going for a drive around the city—and made sure to not break it unless they had to. Each knew that as much as they planned, life got in the way. 

There was Sansa, who drove all day from Winterfell and exploded in tears on their kitchen table as she narrated how Jon had requested that she move out while he checked for what they might be in for because of their relationship. It was Brienne who managed to get through to Sansa, outlining the risks they were taking and that Jon did not love her any less (as she spoke, she looked at Jaime over the auburn-haired woman’s hunched form, conveying her surprise at the relationship). Jaime spoke to Jon the following day. He didn’t see the other man as a threat, more so that he was in a relationship, but he made it clear that Sansa was hurting due to his pursuing a relationship with her. “The girl loves you, you bastard,” Jaime drawled. “And you picked a fine time to fall in love with a student and have her live with you. You’re fixing this, Snow, or I’ll cut off your balls and feed them to the direwolves. My wife’s taught me how to handle a knife.” 

It was very inappropriate but Jaime couldn’t resist asking Brienne to role-play with him that night. “I’m the dumb as fuck jock ready to do anything to get a passing grade and you’re that tough bitch of a professor,” he told her. Brienne burst out laughing, red-faced and telling him he was being ridiculous until he kissed her. As Jaime wrenched open her blouse, she gasped that there was no need for them to pretend or role-play anything. “Just fuck me, Jaime,” she begged him, in that breathy voice he will never be able to resist, and drew him down by wrapping her wonderful legs around him. In the sweaty aftermath of their fucking, they agreed that should date night get shelved, they were to reschedule it right away and not wait for the next one to make up. Making up, they would realize, tend to be solely about sex. It suited them very well.

Margaery’s birth had them shelving their plans for cocktails at the Silk Lounge. Tyrion was stuck in traffic as it was the night a major road construction began. Loras, who was with his sister putting the finishing touches of the nursery, called the family in panic. Jaime, the closest to the hospital, kissed Brienne hard on the lips in apology and she kissed him back in understanding. “You have to be with them, there’s no one else,” she assured him when he hesitated by the door. She had cooked roast chicken in rosemary for their date night and he knew how hard she worked on it, and also looked forward to being with her. Brienne had to give him another reassuring kiss before he left, still very reluctant.

Jaime and Tyrion arrived at the hospital at the same time, Robert following ten minutes later. Margaery was being wheeled to the operating room, clutching Loras’ hand when Tyrion burst from the elevator. 

“Mr. Lannister!” Margaery screamed in relief, letting go of her brother’s hand. Loras, sagging, fainted. 

“I made it, Miss Tyrell!” Tyrion said, stepping over Loras’ prone form. Jaime and Robert had to rouse the younger man with none-too-gentle slaps on the cheeks. Then the three of them stayed until they were introduced to Olenna Alerie. She was beautiful, with Tyrion’s blond hair and her mother’s big, brown eyes. Loras wept big, fat tears and hugged his niece to his chest while Tyrion looked on, misty-eyed. Jaime patted him on the back. The Lannister brothers hugged each other. Tywin arrived with flowers for Margaery and also a watch for Tyrion. Jaime complained he didn't get a gift when his sons were born.

Exhausted from the long night, Jaime went home in a cab. He crawled to bed, pawed for Brienne’s warm, sleeping form then slid his hand under her t-shirt. He grumbled sleepily as she kissed him. He was wide awake a few hours later, energized and in great need of his wife, who wasn't very recipient of his kisses until he cupped her breasts from under her t-shirt. That woke her up. Brienne kicked off her shorts, got on her hands and knees. She whispered for him to hurry. Jaime kissed and nipped her smooth, freckled bottom before grabbing her hips and fucking her. She groaned he was so big; she felt full and stretched to capacity. The energy they had mustered for the encounter quickly drained upon their climax. Jaime fell asleep with his nose buried in Brienne's hair, who lay on her stomach. Together, they snored.

They were at the park with their children almost a week later when they got the panicked call from Robert that Cersei’s water had broke. They assured him they would pick up Joffrey from the children’s party he was attending and watch over him for the night. Joffrey slept in the guestroom, excited that when he woke up he would meet his new brother and sister. Jaime and Brienne, too buzzed from hourly updates from Robert and Tywin, eventually fell asleep on the couch. At the first brush of sunlight, Brienne woke up first and pressed sleepy kisses around Jaime’s face. He groaned and started sparring with her, slowly, gently, with lips, then hands, and finally, making her yield with his cock. Green eyes drank in blue. He swallowed her gasps, fucking her deeply as she trembled around him, her nails digging moons on his back, her legs around his waist slowly cutting off his oxygen. Yet they fucked once more, finishing just as they heard the children calling for them. A smile passed between them before reaching for their clothes.

Taena arrived early, at their request. Brienne brought Joffrey to the hospital by herself because Jaime had a morning photo shoot he couldn’t miss. She kissed Cersei on the cheek and congratulated her for her beautiful children—Tommen whose hair was thick, black ringlets, his eyes big and blue, and Myrcella, golden blond with green eyes. Tywin declared Myrcella looked exactly like Cersei when she was born.

Ellaria gave birth on the same week to a third daughter she would name Sarella. It was Brienne who took her to the hospital. Oberyn met them there. Jaime stayed behind with the Martell daughters and his sons. After Oberyn took his daughters to the hospital, Jaime pulled Brienne to bed. As she yawned, he joked that being with their friends’ daughters made him dread having his own. “If she has your eyes, wife, there’s nothing she asks that I’d say no to.”

As Jaime slept, Brienne wondered what it would be like. To be a mother again. To see Jaime once again devotedly, helplessly, beautifully in love with their child. It was a thought she would carry with her weeks and weeks, turning it over in her head, imagining, dreaming. When she played with the lengthening locks of his silky golden hair as he slumped on her chest catching his breath after fucking her so heavenly yet again, she wondered what their daughter could look like. Or their next son. With his hair? His eyes? His smile? Along with the image of this child they had yet to create, she wondered about her career. Before, it seemed she had to make a choice. Be a good mother or a tenured professor. These days, she didn't see any trouble having both, of being both. She could be both and more. Right? Jaime sensed Brienne's deep thoughts but since she was not disclosing them yet, he knew not to ask. His wife was all still waters and depth and he had learned to trust that when she was ready for him to know what occupied her thoughts, she would tell him. Right now, all she needed from him was his presence, his love. He gave himself wholeheartedly.

Tonight, no one was giving birth, there were no children to babysit save for their own—and Drew and Ty were already fast asleep. Brienne sipped her wine. It was date night but she and Jaime elected to stay home, both of them not needing a night out to unwind but still wanting to be with each other. They had pizza delivered and were now enjoying it with a bottle of red wine. Jaime wore an old t-shirt—probably hers because it looked familiar--and faded boxers. She was in threadbare sweatshirt and a pair of striped shorts with a tear on one of the pockets. Her bare legs brushed against the curling hairs on his legs, tickling her and making her feel warm and tingly. 

She watched as Jaime put hot sauce on his slice. His blond hair was longer now, gold, thick waves hanging a little past his ears. He was also growing a beard again. The spots on her body—breasts, stomach, inner thighs—left red by his stubble warmed in both memory and anticipation.

“The Westeros Philharmonic will be performing at Dragon Park on Friday night,” Jaime said before taking a big bite of his pizza. “Would you like to go?” 

“Sure. Then we can have dinner at Wyman Maderly then dessert at Hot Pie. You haven’t been there in a long time,” Brienne suggested. Jaime nodded. Hot Pie was his favorite pastry shop. Brienne was unaware that Jaime was currently entertaining the fantasy of licking rich cream from the side of her lips when they ate there, as well as his intention to convince her to wear a skirt sans underwear.

They talked and ate for an hour, taking their time. Even when it wasn’t date night, they promised to give each other one hour to just talk with each other. And they were not to talk about work, or the children, or how the apartment needed a fresh coat of paint. They talked about nothing and everything, from the grossest fruit to combine with cereal ("Pineapple," according to Brienne) to the worst place to have sex in (“I don’t know. Next to a corpse,” Jaime had said with a shudder and Brienne agreed.). 

Brienne enjoyed listening to Jaime talk. He sounded like he was always smiling, and he was, and though most of the time their talk wasn’t sexual, he was always touching her, making her feel hot all over. Jaime liked listening and watching her too. Brienne got animated when she was passionate about a subject, talking with sweeping hand gestures that had him removing anything that could be dropped, broken and spilled with her circumference. Her eyes shone and she looked at him directly. She wasn’t seducing him at all but damn, everything Brienne did was a turn-on. Even the way she picked out peppers from her pizza was sexy, he thought, helplessly in love. Then he kissed on the neck, licking the freckles there. Brienne closed her eyes and nodded, opening them then looking at him. He smiled, brushed his knuckles on her cheek.

“I’ll see you in bed, wife.”

Brienne checked on Drew and Ty while Jaime headed for their bedroom. She kissed them gently on the forehead, marvelling at how big they were and how fast they were growing. She smiled at them before slipping out and heading for the bedroom.

Jaime was already in bed, leaning against the pillows with his arms spread, looking like a god with his ruffled, longer blond hair, his “come here, baby” squint and smirk, his bare chest ripped with lean muscle and lickable golden skin. Brienne blushed as his eyes raked her boldly, hungrily, as if he could see through her clothes. She turned away to pull off her shirt.

“Aw, wife.” Jaime complained. “I want to watch.”

“You’re always watching.” Brienne kept her back on him, her voice muffled as she removed the shirt before her head and body popped from its holes. “Aren’t you tired of the view?”

She didn’t see his admiring gaze at her long, broad back, the bunched muscles there. He licked his lips as her shorts fell. The deep dimples below the small of her back called to be traced by his tongue. The high, firm cheeks of her ass in the white cotton panties demanded to be squeezed, pinched, sucked, spanked. Those legs would be wrapped around him tonight. All night. “Never.”

She was slow to turn around. When she finally did, her nipples were tight, pink points and she was breathing rather harshly. Her cheeks were his favorite red shade. Jaime groaned at the dirty-blond curls escaping the narrow panel, at the damp spot forming on her underwear. He couldn’t wait to bury his lips in the soaked folds of her cunt, flood his mouth with her come. He was so fucking hard he worried about coming as soon as he entered her.

“Come here,” he commanded, holding out his hand. Brienne walked toward him, breasts swaying in that shy, enticing way that made his throat dry and his mouth water, her long legs shaking until she could grasp his hand. Then he pulled her down the bed and kissed her roughly, hungrily, his tongue easily pushing past her very soft, very pliant lips. He rubbed his cock against her thigh.

“Jaime.”She whispered as he set her down beside him. She looked up at him with molten sapphire eyes. Her hand caressed the mat of hair on his chest, her fingertips flicked at his nipples. He took her mouth again, sucking hard on her lower lip until it was red and swollen.

“Just lie back,” he told her. Though she clearly desired him, he could tell she was tensed. That damn evaluation was taking too long, in his opinion. “I’ll take care of everything. Just for tonight," he added, grinning. His wife would always be shy but she was not a passive lover.

She smiled at him. “That’s every night this week.”

He kissed her on the lips as he squeezed her breasts. “Just this week. You have a lot to make up to me, wife. A Lannister does as much paying and collecting of his debts.” His wink was so lascivious she had to turn away, biting her lip. A soft laugh issued from his throat and he kissed her chastely on the cheek before whispering just exactly how he wanted her to repay him. 

Brienne rewarded him with a throaty moan as he wrapped his lips around one of her nipples and sucked. When his hand wandered past her navel to the waistband of her panties, she trapped it between her thighs. "Brienne?" He asked, smiling at her.

“Jaime, I, uh, there’s something you should know first.” She whispered. 

He raised his head. His hand continued to roam. A finger slid between her soaked folds and circled her stiff clit.“Tell me.”

Blushing deeply at his touch, she gasped, “Whether I get tenured or not—“

Jaime said vehemently, _“You will.”_ And dropped a kiss on her hipbone. He tugged off her underwear and pressed himself between her legs. His wide shoulders kept her legs spread. His nostrils flared upon inhaling her arousal. The kisses and licks he placed on her inner thighs clouded her mind for a minute before it cleared.

Brienne let out a sigh, her blush more vivid now and covering her throat and chest. “If I don’t, I still think we should do this.” She put her palm on his cheek and he turned to kiss it. He held her hand to his cheek.

“And what is it that you think we should still do, wife?” He alternated between sucking and playful bites of her fingers. 

“I—I want—I want us to try,” the words spilled from her lips in a breathless rush. “I want us to try for another child, Jaime, if that’s okay.” She held her breath as he stared at her, eyebrows leaping to his hairline.

“Okay?” He echoed in disbelief following a few seconds of quiet. “You want to know if it’s _okay?_ ”

She nodded, biting her lip. “Yes, Jaime.”

A hopeful smile lit up his face. It took her breath away.“Then let’s get started.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! Are you as happy as I am that it's over?
> 
> Okay. Some of you expressed some sadness that this is coming to an end. I am too, but since the series is far from over, there are still more Jaime and Brienne (and their crazy family and friends) coming! So please forgive me if I'm more relieved than sad. 
> 
> I would like to thank everyone for their encouragement. I'm not really big on answering back right away but trust that I will be thanking each of you personally. There were many, many, many times that I wanted to drop this installment because it turned out to be a monster one--this is fifteen chapters beyond my original plan. But I don't think any of us who write end up sticking firmly to what we had intended. Your wonderful words propped me up and told me I was doing something right--not perfect--but you have no idea what it does to me when you make the time to tell me you enjoy the latest chapters, or when you feel for Tywin or cheer for Ellaria and Margaery, for example. That really means a lot, you have no idea.
> 
> I'll be taking a break from the series for a while and going back, bit by bit, to another unfinished work, Westeros Central Agency. I hope you enjoyed reading the end of Into the Wild. Again, I'm not done with The Lannisters Are Coming.
> 
> Far from it! 
> 
> Additional notes:  
> Taena Merryweather and Cersei have some lesbian vibes going on in ASOIAF. That's what I went with when I included Taena in the series. Cersei can't be lesbian in this world so Ygritte became her girlfriend--whom you've met in Then Came You, albeit in a very small role. 
> 
> Loras Tyrell is here but no Renly Baratheon. Not yet. But in Meet Me at Midnight, there's chapter where Renly appears and Jaime and Brienne tell him he deserves a better relationship than the one he's in. They don't know yet that he and Loras are together-nobody in this world knows yet, actually. That's why there's no appearance by Renly. He'll be back and yes, we will see them together!
> 
> There are still a lot of things I want to do. We haven't met Addam Marbrand's wife yet, though she's been mentioned several times already. And you're probably curious about the therapist Brienne had an affair with AND we want to see even just one of Jaime's many exes. Personally, I want more Stannis the Mannis because he seems a weird, strangely funny creep-o. We also want to know whether Brienne and Jaime will be having a little girl!
> 
> I can not WAIT to write them but writing really digs into what little time the day has. But they will be written. They will be written and I hope you like them.

**Author's Note:**

> I've never read the books. My take on the Riverlands is entirely my invention.
> 
> I've only gone camping once. NEVER AGAIN. 
> 
> I know nothing about couples counseling. So this is going to be crack!at best. Just enjoy, people. :-)
> 
> This was mentioned several times in the series but Wype is the Skype version of Westeros.


End file.
